


Children of the Wild Ones

by OneHundredSuns



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angel Dean Winchester, Angels, Bottom Castiel, Canon-Typical Violence, Croatoans, Dean/Cas Big Bang Challenge, End of the World, Fallen Castiel, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Minor Character Death, Oral Sex, Sexual Content, Wing Kink, Wingfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-04
Updated: 2013-10-04
Packaged: 2017-12-28 10:20:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 54,744
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/990891
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OneHundredSuns/pseuds/OneHundredSuns
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean thought saying yes to Michael would solve all of their problems, turns out he was wrong. Now he’s stuck with powers he can’t control in a world that’s going to Hell with the whisper of a single word. Croatoan. Now Dean is having flashes of 2014 and the hardened asshole he turned into. He doesn't want to be that man and he doesn't want to lose his family but he can't help but wonder; what if Michael was right? What if you really can't fight City Hall?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the Dean/CastielBigBang 2013. Thank you to Becky for cheerleading and being the best BETA ever. And thanks to Jessica for her wonderful help when it came to Michael, religion and religious passages! And last but certainty not least thank you so, so much to my amazing artist Maddie who drew me some seriously gorgeous art. You have to check it out!
> 
> The pictures are on the big side so there are two links. :) Also beware, the comments may have spoilers!

  
**Artist:** [ ](http://casamancy.livejournal.com/profile) [ **casamancy** ](http://casamancy.livejournal.com/)   
**Art Masterpost:[One](http://casamancy.livejournal.com/636.html) & [Two](http://casamancy.livejournal.com/780.html)**  


Chapter One  
  
It was late in the afternoon when Dean Winchester and his brother Sam finally made their way back to Bobby Singer’s Salvage Yard, smelling of smoke and sterile household chemicals; things they’d used to make a bomb to blow up a building belonging to Niveus Pharmaceuticals. Domestic terrorism wasn’t a part of their day job but sometimes you had to get down and dirty to do what was right. In their case blowing up a warehouse filled with a demon virus that would infect every man, woman and child it was given to far outweighed any moral code they had on the matter.  
  
Dean could remember quite clearly what that fucken virus had done about three years ago when unleashed in the small town of Rivergrove, Oregon. It had turned most of the townspeople into raged filled crazies that would rip your face off in an instant and wear it to the Prom or something equally disturbing. Except back then it had spread through the blood and this being a super batch, who the hell knew how it got cooking once it got going?  
  
But that was old news thanks to him and Sam doing what they did best. They’d even managed to save a few of the employees before they were ripped apart.  
  
He still hated Crowley and wanted to gank the bastard but his info had been top shelf. On Pestilence’s orders Brady had been cooking up the Croatoan virus as some sort of fake cure to the sudden swine flu epidemic. Too bad he hadn’t monologue’d about that like every other villain before they killed him. Anyway though Pestilence was gone, Brady was a spot on the concrete and the virus was burnt to a crisp. Now all they had to worry about Lucifer.  
  
Man, it sounded so easy when put like that. At least they knew what his master plan was a.k.a kill every single human on the planet because of his massive daddy issues. Asshole.  
  
Heading straight for Bobby’s booze and pouring himself a glass, Dean let the alcohol burn his throat as he chugged it without stopping. He shivered and glanced to where Sam was slouched in a chair in front of Bobby’s desk, lost in thought and staring into space. Dean would bet money that his brother was thinking about the devil and all the fucked up shit they’d been through in the past few days.  
  
Getting murdered and going to Heaven; getting to see Pam and Ash again while Zachariah screwed with their memories of his mother.  
  
Killing the Whore of Babylon in a town led astray.  
  
And then of course there was the biggie—him deciding that saying yes to Michael was the only way for them to get out of their fucked up situation. Looking back on it he could realize how crazy and desperate he’d been but man, at the time it had been  _so_  simple. Easy really. Because Dean never really cared about himself and his welfare when there were more important things at stake like the fate of the entire world. Besides Michael had promised not to leave him a drooling bag of bones and he’d believed him for whatever reason. Probably because the asshole was totally the type to possess and run without even buying him dinner first. But either way he was going to do it and hope for the best.  
  
Saying yes to Michael would always be the better option, especially when plan B was Sam trying to control Lucifer.  
  
Dean just hadn’t expected everyone in his life to be  _so_  against it. Cas had beat the shit out of him and lost faith in him while Sam and Bobby had locked him up in the panic room. And yeah he got their anger but he’d just been trying to do what was right. He was always trying to do what was right.  
  
The angels resurrecting Adam Milligan however changed the entire game. It made him even  _more_  determined to let Michael slip underneath his skin. The kid was a dick but he was their half brother and family would always mean something to him.  
  
Things hadn’t gone according to plan however in the beautiful room for anyone really. Dean said yes but managed to kill Zachariah and escape with Sam by the skin of his teeth before his holiness descended. He still wasn’t sure how that had worked out. Everything had been shaking and the ringing in his ears had been almost deafening; the brightness of Michael’s very essence making the hair on the back of his neck stand straight. There had been an electric shock and then Adam simply disappeared before their very eyes like a dissipating fog.  
  
No Michael in sight with a dead corporate angel douche slumped in the corner. Man it had felt amazing to finally shut Zachariah up. To watch him burn out of his vessel and feel it flow through his body like a comet shooting cross the sky.  
  
At least he and Sam were back on good footing though, not that there was any doubt about that. Going up against Pagan Gods and surviving tended to bring a family together.  
  
Smoothing a hand across his face, Dean trudged over to the lumpy couch and sat down with a low groan. It would be mere minutes before they were back researching how to kill Lucifer—an endless task probably—but for now everyone was just sitting quietly. That’s how he knew it was serious of course because usually Bobby never stopped muttering and wheeling about…so much crankier since losing the use of his legs. Which yeah. Too bad they couldn’t fix that. Too bad Cas couldn’t.  
  
At the thought of his friend Dean frowned and tapped his fingers on his denim clad knees. He had no idea where the angel was or if he was even okay. He was trying to be optimistic but things never tended to work out well for them or their friends. And Cas had just, put himself on the line again for them—for  _him_ —like his own safety didn’t matter. He’d walked into that warehouse like a goddamn boss and cleared the room of angels in under a minute. He was a nerdy little asshole sometimes but he fought like a one man army for their pitiful little cause. And Dean hated that their last conversation had been about Cas losing faith in him. That he figured it was better to take on the other angels instead of watching him fail.  
  
Dean was going to find him though. He didn’t care if he had to scourge the planet five times over or kick in the Heavenly gates, he was going to find him and thank him. Because yeah there was just no damn way he could give up on Castiel when Castiel—even battered and bruised and reprogrammed—had never given up on him. He owed him that and so much more.  
  
It was hard for him to depend on anyone besides Sam and Bobby but somehow Castiel had joined his place within those hallowed ranks. And it wasn’t even the pulling him out of Hell thing though yeah that got him major bonus points. It was everything that came after. It was this freaken celestial being going against his entire family because he felt this silly little human had some good ideas worth paying attention to. It was knowing that Cas had seem him at his literal worst and yet still saw something good in him afterwards.  
  
It was because Cas was  _Cas_  and he just  _couldn’t_  let him down.  
  
So they would find a way to nut punch Lucifer out of existence and then find Castiel.  
  
“We should have stopped for something to eat.” Sam said, finally breaking the silence. “No offence Bobby but I’m really not in the mood for more beans and rice.”  
  
Bobby grunted in response. “Sorry the accommodations aren’t up to par. I left my chef’s hat upstairs.”  
  
Sam cracked a smile and stood, strolling into the kitchen to look in the fridge. “Maybe I’ll just fry an egg. Hey Dean, you want one?”  
  
Dean sighed; he wasn’t too hungry but he’d eat anyway. “Yeah sure.” He rolled his aching shoulders, reaching back to rub at the pressure between them. He didn’t remember getting hurt but he supposed it could have happened when icing Zachariah tossed him into the wall. “So the Crotes virus is toast. Now we just gotta figure out a way to stop Lucifer before he kills a bunch of people.”  
  
Bobby wheeled from around his desk. “Easier said than done. I’ve been combin’ these damn books since the asshole showed up and haven’t found diddly squat.”  
  
Dean wasn’t surprised. “Yeah well he  _is_  the devil. And it did take another Archangel back in the day to clip his wings. Unless Michael shows up wearing Adam we’re probably all screwed.” Man he hoped that didn’t happen. He’d never forgive himself.  
  
“Oh ye of absolutely no faith.” A voice said, one belonging to Crowley from where he stood fixing himself a glass of Scotch. “Do you lot always whine this much? However do you manage to get anything done?”  
  
“What the hell do you want?” Bobby snapped at him. “If you’re expectin’ a pat on the back for telling us about Niveus I got a newsflash for ya, you ain’t getting one.”  
  
“Come now Robert. I told you about Niveus out of the goodness of my black heart.” Crowley mused. “And well, a planet overrun with the Croatoan infected would have just been bad for business.”  
  
“What do you want?” Dean inquired, his jaw twitching in irritation. “Niveus is gone.”  
  
“Oh yes I know. Lovely work by the way.” The demon grinned. “I am here gentlemen to impart a bit of interesting information that I have just been made privy to. And trust me, you’re gonna wanna hear this.”  
  
Sam came to stand in the doorway, frying pan and fork in his hands. “Hear what?”  
  
Crowley took a slow sip of his beverage. “Lucifer. He’s dead.”  
  
Dean blinked. “What? What the hell are you talking about?”  
  
Crowley looked at him. “It seems our fearless demonic leader was cut down a few days ago in Muncie. Some of his little stooges are quite upset about it. Me? I’m throwing a keger and you’re all invited. Clothing optional.”  
  
Sam’s mouth opened and closed for a minute. “But…wait. Muncie, Indiana? Isn’t that where that hotel was with all the Gods and stuff?” His eyes found Dean’s. “Do you think Gabriel really did it? You think he _killed_  the devil?”  
  
Seeing as how all the Gods except Kali were slaughtered he didn’t know who else could have done it. “Looks like.” Pause. “Crowley you sure this information is legit?”  
  
Crowley nodded seriously. “Cross my heart. Satan is no more. He won’t be missed.”  
  
Sam’s brows narrowed in obvious thought. “Tha—that would be beyond amazing but how are we supposed to know for sure? I mean it’s not like we can ask another demon or something. The only one he had any interaction with was Meg, and the less we see of her after what happened to Jo and Ellen the better.”  
  
Dean stroked his chin. “We could try shouting for Gabriel.”  
  
“Or you could summon him.” Crowley cut in. “Seriously you boys need to study more. You’re useless.”  
  
“And how exactly does one  _summon_  an Archangel?” Bobby asked testily.  
  
“The same way you summon a regular angel.” Crowley snapped his fingers and a piece of ratty parchment appeared on Bobby’s desk. “There. Don’t say I never gave you anything.”  
  
Dean wasn’t convinced. “Why are you still helping us anyway?”  
  
The demon waved a hand. “It’s no secret I wasn’t a fan of Lucifer or his  _big plans_. I would have done anything to get rid of him and remain on this lovely little piece of rock. You three primary color challenged imbeciles just  _happened_  to get the job done. So…” He strolled over to a book shelf. “Consider this a freebie.”  
  
Sighing, Bobby plucked up the paper and gave it the once over. “I’ve got most of this stuff in the pantry. Well, let’s summon us an Archangel.”  
  
Eggs forgotten, Sam fetched the ingredients that were needed while Dean drew symbols in chalk on the table. They put everything together in a large gold challis—and where had Bobby gotten a  _challis_ —before exchanging glances and lighting it all on fire. A plume of smoke puffed up to the ceiling and seconds later there was Gabriel, leaning against the wall near the kitchen, snacking on a bag of Skittles.  
  
“Sam and Dean Winchester…oh goodie.” He arched a brow at Crowley. “Is this some weird interspecies party or something? Because I gotta tell ya if I had known I would have brought Kali.”  
  
Dean shook his head. “We thought you died you son of a bitch. What? You couldn’t even pop in to tell us you were okay?”  
  
Gabriel shrugged idly. “Didn’t know you cared. Besides I was  _busy_. That business with Lucifer got Kali all hot and bothered and well, I would have been an idiot to walk away from  _that_. Girl loves her destruction; what’re ya gonna do?”  
  
Sam ignored him. “Did you do? Did you kill Lucifer?”  
  
For the first time since that warehouse and the holy fire Dean noticed Gabriel drop the act, his expression becoming open and just a tiny bit vulnerable. “It was either him or me,” he replied. “Luckily he’d forgotten some of my better tricks.”  
  
Sam looked like a kid at Christmas over the news. “So he—he’s gone? I don’t have to worry anymore. Everyone is safe.”  
  
Dean couldn’t resist going over and slapping his shoulder. He hadn’t seen his brother this happy in a very long time. “You’re free, Sammy.”  
  
Sam grinned cheerfully. “Oh. Sorry Gabriel. I mean—well I know that wasn’t easy for you. He  _was_  your brother.”  
  
Gabriel popped another Skittle into his mouth. “He was…and I loved him. But let’s face it. He was like about fifty cards short of a full deck. Yeah I’ve beamed people aboard an alien space ship but even  _I_  would never boil the planet.”  
  
Bobby shut the book on his lap closed. “So if the devil wasn’t yanking Pestilence’s chain anymore, why was he still going to release the Croatoan virus?”  
  
“Well you  _did_  kill one of his brethren. And as you clearly discovered with Lucifer, beings of immeasurable power are not above petty revenge plots.” Crowley explained; matter of fact. “Maybe he just wanted to stick it to you like you stuck it to War.”  
  
Dean scratched at the back of his neck because that did make sense. Also it was possible that Pestilence had been given orders to keep things going no matter what. “Alright so, the devil is dead and the Crote virus is gone.” Folding his arms over his chest, he wet his lips. “So does that mean we’ve won?”  
  
Sam nodded. “Seems like it. Until the next hunt comes along I mean. But…yeah.” He got that look like he wanted a group hug or something, so Dean stealthily wandered over to where Bobby sat. “It’s finally over.”  
  
Gabriel snorted. “I’d love to stay and chat—actually no I wouldn’t. I’d love to be neck deep in chocolate sauce and porn stars so I’m heading to Vegas, baby!”  
  
“Wait.” Dean lifted a hand before he could pop away. “One more thing. Heal Bobby first.”  
  
“Ex-squeeze me?” Gabriel inquired, drawing the words out. “Why would I do that?”  
  
“Because it’s the right thing to do. He lost his legs fighting in a war your dick bag family helped start.” Dean raised his voice a little, for all the good it would accomplish. “Now you’ve never had trouble bending reality or whatever so I’m gonna go out on a limb and say being an Archangel means Heaven’s little rules don’t apply to you. That you can heal him.”  
  
Gabriel chomped on more candy. “I could. In fact I could probably turn him into a woman with huge cans if I wanted to.”  
  
Bobby made a face. “No thanks, I’m pretty enough. Legs would be good though. Workin’ ones.”  
  
Dean hated the thought of  _begging_  to Gabriel of all people but he’d do it for Bobby because Bobby had done a lot for him and Sam. “C’mon man, please? We’ll owe you one.”  
  
Chuckling, Gabriel made his bag of Skittles disappear. “No offense but you guys aren’t exactly rolling in anything I’d want. Especially since I can just conjure whatever I need. Now…I would love to help but there is an adult movie out there calling my name.”  
  
Seeing red, Dean balled his hands into tight fists. Hitting him would only break his knuckles if he was lucky but honestly he wanted to give it a shot. Really what was the harm in giving Bobby back the use of his legs? What was the harm in doing something right for a change? Was it against his jackass code or something? Did he only intervene in situations where he could bring someone down a peg or where his own stupid life was at stake?  
  
“Fuck you.” Dean said through clenched teeth. “So you do one good deed and then revert back to a psychotic Trickster that drops innocent people into black holes? Is  _healing_  someone beneath you or some shit? Really how long would it take to come the fuck over here, lay hands on…” He put his hand on Bobby’s shoulder and squeezed hard. “…and fucken  _heal_  him?!”  
  
Suddenly Bobby gasped loudly and tensed like he had been struck by a bolt of lightning, his face flushing dark red. His eyes were wide when they came back into focus, and he waved away questions of if he was okay. “I’m fine ya idgits. Just a case of static electricity.”  
  
“Bobby.” Sam whispered. “Your leg.”  
  
Bobby looked down to where he was wiggling his right leg. “What the hell?” Reaching down with shaking hands, he jerked the metal stirrups of the chair out of the way and slowly stood. “Son of a bitch.”  
  
Sam’s big puppy dog eyes fixed on the Archangel. “You did it. You were just being a dick about it but you did it.”  
  
Gabriel pressed his lips together. “Actually no. I didn’t. Dean did.”  
  
Dean snickered. “Seriously? Is this a new game you got going on?”  
  
Gabriel whistled. “I don’t know how I missed it before but then again you’ve always had sparks of grace in ya, Deano thanks to Castiel. Guess they kept me from putting two and two together at the hotel but now it’s so clear.”  
  
“What’s clear? And I’ve got Cas’  _grace_  in me?”  
  
“Don’t look so scandalized. How else was he gonna get those bow legs of yours to stay on?”  
  
“Okay filing that away for later. What else are you going on about?”  
  
“You my dear are brimming with Michael’s grace.”  
  
The room got so quiet that you could have heard a pin drop. Everyone looked at everyone else but no one seemed to know what to say. And then Dean huffed in derision. “That’s not possible.”  
  
Gabriel hunched his shoulders. “But it is. You  _did_  just heal your grouchy father figure.”  
  
“Dean. What if he’s right?” Sam grabbed his bicep and shook him a little. “Technically you did say yes to Michael. Remember?”  
  
“But we got out of there before he showed up.” Dean reminded him. “He’s most likely running around in Adam, unfortunately.”  
  
“Wrong! Pretty sure your illegitimate brother is back up in Heaven.” Gabriel exclaimed. “You have Michael’s grace. You have his powers. Hell you’ve probably even got wings hidden beneath your broad shoulders. How you happen to have all that with no Michael in sight? I dunno. Call me when you figure that out.”  
  
And then he was gone.  
  
“Fuck!” Dean cursed. “Gabriel get back here! Gabriel!”  
  
“Now that he’s mentioned it…” Crowley squinted at him. “You do have more sparkly bits than usual. Interesting. Well gentlemen I have to be going. Deals won’t make themselves.”  
  
He followed Gabriel’s lead.  
  
Sam pushed strands of dark brown hair out of his face. “Guess this means we’re back in research mode.”  
  
Bobby was already folding up his wheelchair so that he could shove it into a corner. “I’ll go get the books I had tucked upstairs.” He was all but beaming and Dean was glad to see it; he’d never get over the old bastard wanting to eat a bullet because of that damned chair.  
  
Watching the older man jog up the stairs, Dean picked up the half a bottle of Jack Daniels and didn’t even bother with a glass, instead drinking it straight up. He cringed at the burn and felt it settle in his empty stomach like lead. His mind was on fire with different thoughts and ideas, all of which swirled around Michael.  _Michael_. There was no fucken way he had Michael’s mojo—it just didn’t make any sense. Angels took vessels over; they didn’t juice ‘em up and then skip town. Well unless the angel was bitch slapped back to Heaven for some reason.  
  
 _What if he’s rattling around in my head just waiting for a weak moment?_  He thought to himself.  _Well surprise fuck face! Lucifer is dead and the apocalypse is over!_  
  
Dean turned to his brother. “We need Cas.”  
  
Of course Sam didn’t disagree. “Yeah he’d probably know what was going on. We should have asked Gabriel if he knew where he was.”  
  
Like that douche would have told them if he did. “Fat lot a good that would have done us and you know it. Dick is only out for himself.” And yet… “Gabriel you fucken prick! Get your feathery ass back here and help us find Cas!”  
  
Silence.  
  
Growing steadily more annoyed and angry, Dean practically screamed for the Archangel to return but he didn’t. And then Sam started giving him that sympathetic face that he always got when he could tell his brother was in pain but trying not to let it show. Dean hated that look and he hated the thought of Castiel out there somewhere, broken and hurt because of what he’d done for them. Honestly he didn’t know what he would do if they didn’t find him. And if they didn’t find him alive?  
  
The thought caused bile to rise into his throat but he forced it back down. Puking wouldn’t help. The urge wouldn’t disappear though instead settling deep within his guts and twisting. He gasped when it became harder to breathe and doubled over, holding his stomach as his legs threatened to shake out from underneath him. He could see Sam’s mouth moving—calling his name—but he couldn’t find his voice to say anything. Just as his brother got up and reached for him, he was jerked violently backwards with such force that he nearly blacked out from the strain.  
  
Next he was crashing down roughly onto a shiny tiled floor, knocking over something in the process. He groaned and rolled over onto his back, blinking away hazy images to stare up at bright light panels. The smell of bleach and sterile medicines drifted up his nose, and he frowned because they were so freaking strong. He coughed and sat up as his ribs gave a twinge. Apparently he’d fell onto a…wooden food tray?  
  
It was then Dean fully realized that he wasn’t in Bobby’s study anymore. Hell he wasn’t even in Bobby’s  _house_  anymore. What the fuck, man? Judging by the white walls and smells he knew he had to be in a hospital but he didn’t wanna think of how he’d gotten there because that would mean Gabriel was right.  
  
 _Gabriel_  was  _right._  
  
Sam and Bobby were probably freaking the hell out right about now.  
  
“Fuck.” Standing up on legs that felt like bugs were crawling under his skin, his attention immediately went to the figure stretched out on the bed. “Cas?”  
  
Had he fucken  _teleported_  to Cas? Sure he’d been worried but…  
  
The angel’s eyes were closed with his arms limp by his sides, an IV in one and a plastic id bracelet around the other. The covers were pulled up to his chest which rose and fell slowly but there were no machines monitoring him. He didn’t look mangled or half dead as Dean had feared, but he was paler than usual with four scratches above his left eye and a bruise on his right cheek. Not to mention the fact that he was in a spotted  _hospital gown_  kept throwing Dean off. Seriously he wasn’t even going to focus on anything else or his head might crack open.  
  
“Cas?” He made his way to the side of the bed and touched his hand. “C’mon man, wake up. Weird as hell shit is going down and I could really use your help.”  
  
“How did you get in here?” The door to the room opened and a confused nurse stared at him. “Visitors have to check in at the front desk.”  
  
Dean ignored her question. “What’s wrong with him?”  
  
She sighed. “I’m sorry Sir but we can only give that information to next of kin. Now you really have to leave.”  
  
Yeah, he wasn’t going anywhere. “Look I know him, okay? He’s a friend of mine and I’ve been looking for him.” Pause. “I just wanna know if he’s okay. You don’t have to give me specifics.”  
  
She nibbled on her bottom lip. There must have been something in his voice or expression because she cleared her throat and said, “He’s in a coma but that’s all I can tell you. You  _really_  need to come back another time and maybe try to get in touch with his family. Otherwise I can’t release any information to you.”  
  
He looked back to his friend.  _Angels_  didn’t go into comas. “I’m not leaving.”  
  
Huffing she stormed out of the room presumably to get security.   
  
Dragging his palms up and down his thighs, he hurried to the door and closed it, wishing there was a damn lock. Then he was back at Castiel’s bedside, removing his IV and un-tucking the sheets, throwing them to the foot of the bed. He knew he only had a few moments before the nurse and some gun toting rent a cop dude showed up to usher him outside but there was no goddamn way he was leaving Castiel. Especially not like  _this_.  
  
Dean threw Castiel’s arm over his neck and slipped his own arms underneath him, scooping him up into a princess carry with a low grunt. “Okay. Shit. How do I get us back to Bobby’s?”  
  
He’d been worried about Cas before unexpectedly ending up in his hospital room. More than that he’d been sort of terrified that they would never find him again. That he was locked away in Heaven being tortured or worse, laying dead in a ditch somewhere. The feeling had overwhelmed him and the next thing he knew, bam. Literally.  
  
So what would get him back to Sioux Falls and Singer’s Salvage Yard?  
  
He was picturing Bobby’s living room when he heard rushed footsteps at the end of the hall. “Fuck! C’mon mojo do your thing!” Bobby’s house. Bobby’s study. Bobby’s booze? Bracing his back against the door with Castiel’s head lolling on his shoulder, he blinked with a start. “Sam. C’mon Sammy! I can see you freaking out and wondering where I am. You’re worried.”  
  
With his brother’s floppy hair and Sasquatch physique in mind, he concentrated on Sam and how upset he had to be right now with Dean just disappearing into thin air. Bobby most likely wasn’t any better but Sam would be pacing and trying his phone—which was in his coat, which he wasn’t wearing—and then cussing up a storm when he realized that. He’d scream for Gabriel until he was hoarse before diving onto the books with calling Crowley for help in the back of his mind. The last thing Dean wanted was to cause him more anxiety especially when he was just starting to lighten up.  
  
He had to get back to Sam.  
  
He  _had_  to get back to Sam.  
  
He had to…  
  
That familiar tug erupted in his chest, quicker this time to send him hurtling through space or time or  _whatever_  just as the door jostled behind him. With his eyes open all he saw was misshapen blobs and streaks of light like from old Star Trek episodes when they would go into warp speed. It was strange and unsettling but thankfully it only lasted a second. Between one blink and the other he was in Bobby’s living room, his body feeling like dead weight to the point where he ended up driven to one knee, holding Castiel protectively against him.  
  
“Dean!” Sam all but shrieked. He was beside him immediately grabbing his shoulders. “Oh my God! What happened? Wha— _Cas_? Is he okay? Are  _you_  okay?”  
  
“Help me.” Dean rasped, motioning to the unconscious angel in his arms. “Asshole is heavier than he looks.”  
  
Sam nodded and quickly helped him lay Castiel onto the couch. “Dean, what the hell happened? One minute you were here and then the next you just disappeared!”  
  
“Here son.” Bobby handed him a cup of water.  
  
Hooch would have been better but he drunk the water anyway. “Thanks. Jesus.” Pause. “I think I freaken teleported.”  
  
Sam shoved his hands into his pockets. “To where? And you found Cas there? So Gabriel was telling the truth. You do have Michael’s grace.”  
  
Dean sighed and covered Castiel with a blanket from the back of the sofa. “I landed in some hospital. The nurse says Cas is in a coma. I don’t know how any of it happened but hey, at least we found him.”  
  
“Oh yeah.” His brother said with a small smile. “But um, does a coma mean he’s not an angel anymore? Wouldn’t that be an ironic twist of fate? You get grace and he loses his.”  
  
 _Shit._  “Guess we’ll find out when he wakes up.”  
  
Sam pointed to Castiel’s chest. “He’s bleeding through his bandages. I’ll get the First Aid Kit.”  
  
Dean eyed his little brother as he strolled into the kitchen, knowing there were things Sam wanted to say about Castiel’s condition but he was holding his tongue. He’d wait for a while and do whatever necessary to help Castiel but eventually he would starting hinting that maybe they should seek medical treatment. To be honest however Dean would rather steal IV bags from an old folks’ home than put his friend back in a hospital with a bunch of strangers prodding at him.  
  
Balancing himself on the edge of a cushion, he gently untied Castiel’s gown and pulled it down to his waist. The knitted white bandage was slowly being stained with red. He could only guess what the doctors had thought when he’d been brought in. Victim of a cult attack maybe? Wetting his lips, Dean eased the tape off and tossed the soiled dressing into the trash. The sigils that he’d help carve into Castiel’s chest were clean and slick with medicine, the deeper ones bleeding from a few popped stitches. But thankfully there was no infection.  
  
“Damn it, Cas. Why aren’t you healing?” He whispered, even as the answer tickled at the back of his mind. “Just wanna give me a reason to use my fancy new powers huh? Which kinda scare the shit outta me, by the way. You need to wake up so you can tell me what a dumbass I was to say yes in the first place.”  
  
“Maybe he just needs more time.” Sam suggested helpfully. “I’m assuming his vital signs were good and everything. It could be…strain from the banishing.”  
  
Dean itched at his scruffy cheek. “Could be.” Taking the kit from his brother, he ripped open a packet of gauze and dabbed at the bleeding symbols. “I’m gonna try to heal him.”  
  
Bobby grumbled. “Ya think that’s wise? Healing an angel might not be the same as healing some old coot’s spine.”  
  
True. “I gotta try. He’d do it for me.”  
  
Sam took a step back. “Go for it. Just…don’t poop your pants or anything.”  
  
Dean flipped him off but was thankful for the joke. He exhaled deeply, laying one hand delicately on the cuts and the other against the side of Castiel’s neck. Healing Bobby had been a fluke he’d accomplished in anger but really, he could do it again. No sweat. After teleporting halfway across the world or whatever waking Cas up should be a piece of cake. Or pie. God he was gonna eat so much pie after this…and maybe give Sam a magical haircut just because he could.  
  
“Okay. Heal Cas.” He muttered under his breath. “ _Heal_  Cas.”  
  
Nothing happened, not even a tingle in his fingers.  
  
He cracked his knuckles and tried again, really focusing this time. Picturing the skin sealing back together to be flawless. Picturing Castiel opening his big blue eyes and staring at him stoically. Picturing his own relief at having his friend back safe and sound. Over and over again Dean cycled those images through his brain; hunched over Castiel’s motionless form, getting more and more annoyed when  _nothing happened_.  
  
“Damn it!” He gritted his teeth, cupping the sides of Castiel neck with both hands. “Wake up, dick! Wake up!”  
  
Sam cleared his throat. “Dean. Maybe you should try again later. Give yourself a minute to rest.”  
  
Dean shook his head. “No. I wanna do this now. I  _can_  do this. I did it before so I can do it again.” He swallowed hard and concentrated all of his senses onto Castiel, blocking out the other sounds in the room of Sam breathing and Bobby wheezing. He was going to do this or die trying. “Cas, wake up.”  
  
“Castiel.  _Wake. Up._ ”  
  
The light bulbs in the kitchen exploded, sending bright shards of melted glass sailing to the floor like the tail end of a meteor. The entire house started to shake violently and things tumbled from shelves. Sam and Bobby jerked in surprised but Dean just called to Castiel again, louder this time, making the fire place roar to life with angry red/yellow flames that threatened to leap from their confines. Bobby had to move or risk his pants igniting.  
  
Sam called his name. “Dean! Dean stop!”  
  
It fell onto deaf ears because he couldn’t stop. He wouldn’t stop until it worked. “Castiel!”  
  
The sensation of power was like nothing Dean had ever felt before. It built in his limbs like a charged gas cloud before pouring itself into the flesh of the man he was holding. He watched through hazy lids as Castiel’s wounds vanished, his color returned and Castiel’s eyes flew open as a choked puff of air escaped his lips.  
  
Almost instantly he was zeroing in on Dean’s face. “Dean.”


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter Two  
  
Since taking Jimmy Novak as a vessel Castiel hadn’t found a point in changing anything about him or his attire except for when it came to his health. When Jimmy’s body became another extension of  _his_  body—since Jimmy’s soul had department when Raphael smote him—the thought drifted even further from his mind. What was the point of new outfits or shaving when he could simply wave a hand and make everything perfect. As long as his vessel functioned he was fine. Yet sitting on Bobby Singer’s old couch in one of Dean’s t-shirts and a pair of his sweatpants, he found himself enjoying the novelty of something different. The fabric was freer than Jimmy’s suit; lighter. His arms and feet were bare to the elements though the only thing he felt was the warmth from the fireplace. It was interesting and utterly unimportant to the circumstances he was being made aware of.  
  
Apparently Dean had absorbed Michael’s grace and all that encompassed which were basically infinite possibilities.  
  
It was a harrowing truth and not just because Dean could be irrational and stubborn to a fault, but because he could still remember his fear and his anger at the thought of Dean saying yes. At the thought of losing him to Michael’s overwhelming presence and then having to watch him destroy a world  _Dean_  continued to believe in. Of course it had been more than that though at the time he wasn’t sure he fully understood his emotions because they were still so new to him. He assumed it was because of the mission, and the success of the mission. Destroying Lucifer without anyone having to say yes, thereby preventing as many senseless causalities as they could. But in reality he knew he just didn’t wanna lose Dean.  
  
Now he was happy to have a second chance to see him again and talk to him again; to tell his friend that he’d been wrong. The other angels and even his own Father might let him down but Dean would always come through. His drive and determination to save a bunch of strangers was unparalleled except for perhaps by his brother. It was no wonder he was the Righteous Man.  
  
And now somehow  _Archistrategos_ ; commander of the Heavenly Host.  
  
Dean tapped his shoulder. “Hey, you okay? You’re gonna burn a hole into the wall the way you’re staring at it.”  
  
Castiel blinked at him. “I’m alright. I was just thinking about our last conversation before you and Sam went to rescue your half brother. I am grateful that those were not my last words to you.”  
  
Dean arched a brow. “Don’t worry about it. Just uh, help us figure out what this whole Michael deal is about.” Pause. “By the way, what’s up with your angel mojo? You unable to heal now?”  
  
Castiel lowered his gaze to his hands. Being inside of a human used to feel cramped and disorienting but now it was almost second nature to him. “In essence, yes.”  
  
His friend sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Care to elaborate on that?”  
  
Castiel plucked at his shirt; something he recognized as a somewhat nervous gesture. “From what you have told me about my condition when you found me, I would say that my batteries were drained. Otherwise I wouldn’t have ended up in a hospital in the first place.”  
  
Dean’s expression was alarmed. “You mean you’re human? Shit.”  
  
“Technically.” He paused. “I am sorry if my current state means that I will be of no further use to you.”  
  
“What? No. I meant  _shit_  as in I’m sorry, man. That’s rough.” Dean frowned. “You’re still plenty of use to us. We don’t toss friends away because they’re human. Hell Bobby is old as dirt and we still keep his around.”  
  
“I heard that!” Bobby griped from the kitchen.  
  
“Hey Cas, what do you mean  _technically_?” Sam inquired gently.  
  
Castiel rested back to the sofa, his wings shifting restlessly with the urge to manifest. “It’s hard to explain.”  
  
Folding his arms over his chest in a sign Castiel knew to mean Dean wasn’t about to let this drop, he said, “Go slow. I’m sure we’ll figure it out.”  
  
The angel resisted the urge to smile. “After banishing the other angels and myself I am pretty sure that I used my last remaining strength to do so. However at this moment I am still an angel.” He gazed at intensely at Dean. “Because of you.”  
  
Dean shifted on his feet. “What did I do?”  
  
Castiel replied rather bluntly, “You grace shared with me. It is extremely rare among angels—only the most powerful are able to do so. The Archangels of course and a  _few_  lower level angels.” A beat. “You felt that I was weak when you healed me and sought to make me strong again. Thank you.”  
  
Smoothing a hand wearily across his face, Dean cleared his throat. “Okay. Um you’re welcome? God this is so weird. So I juiced you up and now you’re an angel again? Does that mean I’m gonna have to keep doing?”  
  
Theoretically, perhaps. “If I over exert myself to the point of exhaustion. Being cut off from Heaven means that I can’t simply tap that as an unlimited source of power. However I would not expect you to continue to do so,” he said honestly.  
  
For a moment Dean simply looked at him and Castiel noticed that his eyes were an even more brilliant green now. Humans wouldn’t be able to detect it but he could. His soul had always shone bright no matter what obstacles he faced, but now there were tiny wisps of silvery incandescent light mingling with the colored iris. It was un-nerving and beautiful and also familiar because there was a gentleness there that was all  _Dean_.  
  
As much as Castiel felt his brothers and sisters were horribly wrong for trying to purge the earth before its time, he still missed them and Heaven. Being able to feel the warmth of Michael’s grace within Dean—knowing that it wasn’t taking him over—gave him back a tiny piece of his home.  
  
Sam scrubbing the legs of his chair against the hardwood floor made Dean snap back to attention. “I’d do it. Recharge you or whatever.”  
  
His brother snickered lowly. “We could hook jumper cables to your ears.”  
  
Dean snorted. “Shut up, bitch. Anyway do you have any idea what’s going on? Where is Michael? Should I be worried that one day I could go get a beer and suddenly he’s driving me around?”  
  
There was a slight tremor in his voice that belied his somewhat aloof nature. It made Castiel want to put his fears at rest but unfortunately he didn’t have all the answers. Not this time. “I can tell you that there is no sign of Michael inside you besides tendrils of his grace. Getting you to say yes was Zachariah’s primary goal. I seriously doubt Michael would wait even a second to control you if he could. It’s been almost two weeks since Van Nuys, has it not?”  
  
Tiredly Dean sat down beside him. “Something like that. I just—I don’t understand any of this. I mean did like running out of the beautiful room while he was coming down somehow give me his mojo? Is he stuck up in Heaven without powers? And if so how come he hasn’t sent other angels down here to kick my ass? Even with the scribbles on my ribs it’s not like they’d have to cast a wide net. We always come back here eventually.”  
  
All good questions deserving of answers. “I don’t know, Dean. I suggest research but I do not know where to tell you to begin.”  
  
Dean stifled a yawn. “I figured it would be that. Hey why am I yawning if I’m an angel now? For that matter why do I still wanna eat and drink?”  
  
Castiel tilted his head to the side. “I would not go as far as to say you’re an actual  _angel_. You do have Michael’s grace but your mind is still very much human. You’re hungry because you think you  _should_  be. Hunger is a natural human response after all.”  
  
Sam pulled a book off the shelf. “So if he started like, thinking he didn’t need food or sleep eventually he wouldn’t? That will never happen. Dean’s love affair with food is the stuff of legend. He loves it like he loves his car.”  
  
Dean didn’t deny anything. “If it means giving up pie and Biggerson’s, I’m out. But learning how to heal without all the drama would be nice.”  
  
“Would you like me to attempt to teach you some things?” Castiel asked. “We could also test your strength. Knowing your limits—if there are any—would be best especially since I am sure you plan to continue hunting.”  
  
“Ya know that sounds like a good idea.” Dean grinned and fetched a pair of boots for him out of his duffle. “We can go out back and screw with shit while Sam and Bobby find out why Michael flew the coop.”  
  
“Just how I wanted to spend my day.” Bobby trudged through with a coffee mug. “Don’t you two idgits mess up my yard. I got everything how I like it.”  
  
“Yeah.” Dean stood up and motioned for Castiel to follow. “A big old disorganized mess.”  
  
Outside behind Bobby’s fading and paint peeling blue house was a mess of old cars and car parts scattered around and even piled on top of each other. Castiel could smell pools of gasoline and motor oil as dry leaves crunched under his feet. The rusted bodies of the old junkers always reminded him of skeletons with secrets hidden in their bones of warped steel and metal. He used to could touch the Impala and know her entire life history; feel Sam and Dean’s memories in her leather. Now he wondered if he could still do that. If he could touch any of these old cars and just  _know_  everything about them and the people who owned them.  
  
He realized things would be tricky now because of his waning powers…that he wouldn’t be as proficient as he used to be. But that wouldn’t stop him from doing his best whenever he was asked. He was willing to give up everything to see Lucifer destroyed and thankfully that had come to pass with Gabriel’s help. Thankfully those he cared about were still intact, yet if things had gone differently and there was a sacrifice on his side to be made, he would have made it.  
  
Yes the world wasn’t always a wonderful place and humans could be horrible towards each other, but he’d also seen the good in people while on his quest to find God. He was glad they wouldn’t have to suffer because of Lucifer’s misplaced wrath.  
  
Looking up at the cloudy sky, Dean sniffed and gave his left upper arm a squeeze, right over the handprint. “What’s first, Obie Wan?”  
  
Castiel recognized the pop culture reference but as usual he didn’t understand it. Perhaps one day he would ask Dean to explain them all to him. “Michael was the most powerful Archangel in all of Heaven. You’ve seen what Gabriel can do—how he can create entire realities out of nothing. Now imagine that tenfold. I fear there is nothing you can’t do now, Dean. Or be able to learn to do.”  
  
Dean wet his lips. “Freaky. Let’s hope learnin’ shit doesn’t set anything off.”  
  
“You’re worried using your new abilities will…conjure Michael to you?”  
  
“Well, yeah. Aren’t you?”  
  
“No. With Lucifer dead Michael’s war can’t begin. I haven’t been to Heaven since before I rebelled but I would imagine if he is truly gone, then Raphael now rules in his place. Honestly I think he would approve of these turn of events. He could be the new God.”  
  
“That’s a terrifying thought. What about all those souls up there?”  
  
“Raphael has never had any interest in the souls. He will probably turn his attention to earning the allegiances of Michael’s followers and punishing those that refuse.”  
  
“Guess learning to burn angels outta their meat suits’ might come in handy if he tries to start any shit.”  
  
“Perhaps.  _That_  is still well above your comprehension level however.”  
  
Huffing out a little laugh, Dean shook out his limbs. “Alright. Enough talk. Teach me how to do something cool.”  
  
Trying to decide the best place to start, Castiel went with feats of strength. He spied a large grass covered tractor tire lying on its side and walked over to it, lifting it until it was sitting up. Then he gave it a shove and sent it rolling towards a stacked pile of crushed cars like a bowling ball, watching as it crashed into them and sent them tipping over with a loud metal groan.  
  
The hunter next to him let out a loud whistle. “You must be one hell of a bowler.” He cracked his knuckles. “Okay. I can do that. No problem.” He waltzed over to the second tire and bent down, slipping his hands under it. He pulled up with a grunt but nothing happened except for his feet sliding in the dirt and an uncomfortable popping sound.  
  
Castiel’s face was passive but he did feel a little amusement. “Dean, do not hurt yourself. I am unable to heal you.”  
  
Dean glared at him. “Shut up, Cas. I can do this. I’ve got Archangel grace running through my veins.”  
  
Castiel nodded. “Yes. But it is my understanding that you were in a state of tumultuous emotion when you healed me and Bobby…”  
  
Dean exhaled. “I was angry. Gabriel was being a dick—as usual—and I just  _wanted_  it. I wanted Bobby to walk again…and I wanted you to wake up.” His brows narrowed broodingly. “After all the bullshit we’d been through I  _needed_  our luck to keep going. Heh guess that’s why this isn’t working. I don’t need to move this.”  
  
“No, but you want it. Dormant powers linked to emotions can be dangerous, Dean. As we saw with the anti-Christ.” Castiel indicated to the tire. “It would be beneficial for you to learn some control so that you don’t accidentally hurt an innocent you’re trying to save. Try picturing someone trapped under the tire, about to be crushed to death.”  
  
“You do got a way with words, don’t cha?” Dean muttered. Quietly he focused on the tire, his fingers twitching by his sides, his breathing slow and careful.   
  
An odd electric current filled the air and Castiel could feel the hair on the back of his neck stand up. Goosebumps broke out onto his skin and he shivered, taking a step back before he realized what he had done. He was about to suggest that they stop when once again Dean bent at the knees and slid his hands between the tire and the ground. He steadied his boots and jerked upwards  _hard_  with a low sound, sending the wheel at least thirty to forty feet into the air. It soared like a tumbling discus off into the distance before slamming down with a roaring thump that made a smoking crater.   
  
Dean pumped his fist. “Woo! Did you see that! That was awesome! I only meant to lift it up but damn. Good thing Bobby owns a few acres.”  
  
Castiel swallowed thickly. “Very good.”  
  
“What’s wrong?” Because of course Dean would notice his slight uneasiness. “Freak you out?”  
  
“Not at the act itself but the energy you built up to do it. I’ve only experienced such a few times before.” Pause. “Most notably when Raphael killed me.”  
  
Dean placed a hand on his shoulder. “You know I’d never do that to you, Cas. We can stop this if you want. I’ll figure shit out somehow.”  
  
One of the hunter’s most shining traits was his selflessness and the way he always wanted to help other people even to the detriment of his own well-being. It made Castiel want to always be there for him, to offer support. “I am not afraid of you and I want to help you with this. I’m…thankful that I can aid you in this process.”  
  
Dean smiled. “I don’t think I’d trust anyone else  _to_  help me. It was you or wing it.”  
  
Warmth bloomed in the angel’s chest; he was never quite sure why he enjoyed Dean’s compliments or why he seemed to look up to him the way he did. It was something he should think on when he had more time. “Speaking of wings, I’m sure you have your own now.”  
  
Dean rolled his shoulders. “Guess that would explain the ache. Bitches must be heavy. How do I get them to come out?”  
  
Castiel shoved his hands into the pockets of his sweats. “Just think it.”  
  
Lines appeared in Dean’s forehead—a sign he was thinking or bearing down—yet nothing happened after five minutes went by. “Damn it. Why isn’t it working? And hey why can’t you see them?”  
  
So many questions. “Angels generally can’t see each others’ wings in vessel form unless they want them to be seen. And I suppose yours do not want to manifest because you’re…shy?”  
  
Dean huffed loudly, recognizing the teasing. “Are you saying I’m having wingtile dysfunction! Bullshit!” He punched the nearest object, hissing when his knuckles came back sliced opened. “Goddamn it!”  
  
Noting his friend’s frustration, Castiel took his hand and watched the blood bubble to the surface. “You do not have to learn or be able to do everything all at once. There is time.”  
  
Dean flexed his fingers. “Never felt like it before. ‘Sides I’d rather know what I’m capable of right off the bat.” The ripped flesh knitted itself back together but he didn’t pull away from Castiel’s touch. “That’s better than nothing though.”  
  
Castiel nodded. “You will get better. You are a very fast leaner.” Realizing that he was now simply holding Dean’s hand, he gently released it before he got upset. “Tapping into your strength today was not a small thing either. I don’t know why you are so hard on yourself when it is obvious you’re an exceptional human being.”  
  
Dean mumbled something before changing the subject. “Anyway…maybe we can try the wing thing later. I am kinda tired.” He snickered at some unheard joke.   
  
Glancing around to make sure that no one was lurking about, the angel wet his lips slowly. “Would you like to see my wings?”  
  
“They won’t burn my eyes outta my skull?” Even though it was a legitimate concern, it didn’t dampen the flare of excitement that flashed in big green eyes. His fascination with Castiel’s wings was not his best kept secret.  
  
“I am fairly certain they won’t.” Castiel took great care in revealing them, ready to hide them immediately if Dean showed any distress. Thankfully there was no screaming or eyes aflame.  
  
Castiel’s wings were white and large, extending far out to either side of him with a few feathers in disarray. It felt good to lightly flap them against the air and watch Dean’s eyes widen in captivation as they tracked their movements. He could remember all those months ago—years if one were being technical— how he had found Dean for the first time; covered in dark blood and bits of charred flesh with the bile and stench of Hell tainting his skin. His fist was through the chest cavity of a seizing soul, his emotions radiating a sort of pleased guilt that he could finally be the aggressor instead of the victim.  
  
And then he had turned and saw Castiel and his wings, and his nearly black eyes had widened in awe, fear and acceptance. Obviously thinking that the angel was there to burn him out of existence and on some level wanting that because at least then it would be completely over. At least then he would feel no more pain—no more squishy organs between his fingers and no more deafening screams, so loud they made his ears bleed.  
  
Broken and degraded, Dean had all but melted into his arms when he pulled him near, digging sticky fingers into his feathers. Yet the perversities of Hell had done nothing to dim the goodness within Dean’s soul and Castiel had folded his wings around his new charge’s shattered spirit and flew, shielding him with his Grace and healing every scar. The hunter hadn’t wanted to let go afterwards.  
  
 _He attributes safety with my wings,_  Castiel realized, pleased. “Would you like to touch them?”  
  
Dean was suddenly thrumming with nervous energy. “That wouldn’t be weird?”  
  
Castiel shook his head. “Not for me. I think it would be pleasant. They haven’t been touched since I was dragged back to Heaven for re-indoctrination.” Which had not been pleasant at all.  
  
Debating with himself for a minute before going for it, Dean crept closer like he expected something to bite him. He reached out slowly and skimmed his fingertips along soft feathers. “They feel…different than I thought they would. “ He didn’t elaborate how and instead dug in deeper. “Some of your feathers have streaks of silver. Is that like the angel equivalent of going gray?”  
  
“They are what you would call badges of honor from the battles I have been in.” He said, amused. “Places where they’ve healed or been healed.”  
  
“Cool.” Dean started to groom him next, arranging errant feathers back into place. “Dude, you’re a mess.”  
  
The sensation of his warm calloused fingers was soothing and Castiel felt himself swaying into his space, his lashes fluttering closed. Human touch was something he was steadily getting used to—something he’d never thought of before—however if it remained like this he could see himself coming to want it more and more. Especially from Dean.   
  
Especially to his wings.  
  
“I do not have a lot of time to keep them organized.” Castiel admitted lowly. “I am just lucky that throughout my fighting they have never been permanently damaged. Trapped within that holy fire while Lucifer interrogated me, I was worried the circle would somehow shift and ignite them. Or perhaps Meg would simply douse me in holy oil.”  
  
Dean growled at the mention of the demon. “I would have found her ass and made her eat her own hands if she had.” He scowled but his touch became even gentler. “Ya know Cas that means you gotta stop running off to do things on your own. I get you were the only one to see the Reapers but ya know, things coulda went a lot differently.”  
  
Castiel’s right wing brushed the back of Dean’s legs. “I understand. From now on we will operate as a team.”  
  
Dean smiled. “Right. Now turn around and let me have a real go at these bad boys.”  
  
Castiel was more than happy to oblige.  
  
~*~  
  
The upstairs bedrooms in Bobby’s house were either filled with old junk that he just couldn’t part with or were so dusty they gave Dean the urge to go dust bunny hunting. Usually he rock—paper—scissor’d Sam for the couch but after all the shit he’d been through today alone, he just wanted to sleep in a real bed. So he’d beat the sheets and pillows free of as many cobwebs as he could before flopping onto a hard mattress with a deep groan. It was only somewhat better than the floor.  
  
The room itself was bare except for an old dresser and a trunk pressed against the wall. There were no curtains at the window so the moonlight pooled in but he didn’t mind. It was kinda nice actually; the quiet. Usually he didn’t have time to pay attention to silent nights or sunny days or any of that kinda shit. The last time he’d caught a minute to himself without the fear of dying, losing himself or his loved ones he’d been dreaming about fishing. And even then Cas had shown up to interrupt. But this was nice. He could hear Sam’s sporadic snores from downstairs and for once knew he wouldn’t have to kick him awake from a nightmare.  
  
 _Least he won’t be having anymore weird Lucifer dreams. Guess we’ll hang here a few more days before hitting the road again and looking for a case._  
  
Unfortunately research had turned up nada on the missing Michael front but they weren’t going to give up of course. This wasn’t just something they could take at face value. Their lives didn’t work that way.  
  
Staring up at the ceiling, he glanced to the door when the floorboards on the other side creaked. Out of habit his hand sneaked under his pillow to where his knife rested. “…Cas?”  
  
The knob turned and a dishelved head of dark hair peeped in. “Did I wake you?”  
  
God, you creeper. “No. C’mon on in.”  
  
He did as requested, wandering over to poke at the dresser. “I think I could sleep but I do not know if I want to. Dreaming seems as if it would be unsettling.”  
  
Dean grinned. “Nightmares yeah, but not the dirty ones.” It was weird seeing Castiel in his clothes. Actually it was weird seeing Castiel in anything other than his holy tax accountant suit. Made him wanna buy him a trench coat just because. “So the sleeping thing. You getting drained again?”  
  
Castiel came over and perched on the edge of the bed. “No. I just… _feel_  as if I could sleep if I told my body  _to_  sleep. For the last few months I searched for God so that we could defeat Lucifer. Now that he is dead I suppose God is not needed anymore, and I am unsure of what to do with myself. Returning to Heaven does not seem to be a valid option.”  
  
Sitting up, Dean watched him carefully. “I thought—I mean I figured you’d stay with us. Hunt with me and Sam.”  
  
The angel squinted at him. “I am terrible at interrogating people.”  
  
That was very true, to an insanely amusing degree. “Yeah but you’d be a boss at research. And at smiting.” Though maybe he didn’t wanna stay with them. With him. Maybe he wanted to go out and heal babies or help the homeless. “You don’t gotta if you don’t wanna. You’re a free agent now. You can do whatever you want.”  
  
Castiel nodded. “Then…I would very much like to stay with you.”  
  
It was late so Dean wasn’t gonna dwell on why that settled the churning of his stomach. “Sweet. I’ll teach you to shoot and everything.” Yawning, he laid back down. “I’m about to pass out.”  
  
“I’ll watch over you.”  
  
“No. You’re not gonna sit there all night and watch me sleep. Either get in or go hover over Sam.”  
  
“Very well.” Removing his boots, Castiel crawled under the covers but he appeared to remember the whole personal space rule, sticking to his side of the bed. “Do I have to sleep?”  
  
Dean rolled over to stare at the side of his face. “You don’t gotta do anything you don’t wanna do, Cas. That’s the beauty of free will.”  
  
Castiel hummed happily. “Then I will just lie here quietly.”  
  
Snickering Dean closed his eyes, feeling more content than he’d felt in a long time. His little brother was safe, Bobby could walk again and Cas was back where he belonged. The other shoe was gonna drop eventually but he’d deal with that tomorrow. For now he was just going to enjoy their little win.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter Three  
  
The next morning Dean woke up to find Castiel gazing at him with a serene expression on his face, his body relaxed into the mattress. It was funny because Dean had stared at him—sometimes to the point of making others uncomfortable—more times than he could count but he wasn’t sure if he’d ever really  _looked_  at Cas before. He kinda had this stupid idea that if he paid too much attention his eyeballs would explode out of his head from all the awesome. Seemed he didn’t have to worry about that now though.  
  
Castiel’s eyes were like, super blue and even though he was an angel of the Lord there were times when his emotions bled through just like a human’s would. That was probably why he started trusting him so quickly. Not like his people skills really helped with any of that. But even before Castiel admitted to having doubts Dean started to get the feeling he was different, that there was more to him than the stone faced demeanor he usually appeared with. It had been such a small thing really; a hand on his shoulder in a moment when Dean  _really_  needed it.  
  
And now they were in bed together.  
  
Smirking, he rolled onto his back and stretched his arms above his head. The urge to leap across the room was there but he kind of felt it would be dumb to act on. What would be the point anyway? Besides he was warm and comfortable; why ruin it by over thinking what could be very simple? Why look for drama when there wasn’t any?  
  
Okay he must have  _something_  inside of him—and not the good whiskey—because he’d never been this chill before in this life. It was a feeling he could get used to however.  
  
Yawning, he glanced to his watch and decided to just laze for a bit longer. It was a luxury he didn’t usually allow himself because there was always something to do. Some monster to kill or some case to research. And yeah they needed to find out what was up with his new mojo but it wasn’t like he was burning down orphanages when he sneezed or whatever. In fact he couldn’t seem to do much of anything without focusing, and even then sometimes it didn’t work.  
  
 _Maybe that’s a sign I should stop.  
  
Or try harder._  
  
“Good morning, Dean.” Castiel’s voice was rough as sandpaper as usual but with a lilt of warmth. “Did you sleep well?”  
  
He nodded and dug the sleep out of his eyes. “I did, yeah. Did you watch me all night?”  
  
Castiel gave a little half smile. “No. Only for the last three hours.”  
  
It was creepy but also sorta sweet. “Heh okay. Though I don’t know what you get out of it.”  
  
Castiel rubbed at the material of the rumpled pillowcase. “I used to do it so that I could remove your Hell nightmares and make sure you were safe. Now? Well I suppose I just like the look of you.”  
  
Hell. He didn’t dream about it too often anymore but every once and a while he’d wake up in a cold sweat with the feeling of entails soaking his hands. He’d never get over what he did down there or how hollow it had left him, but knowing the whole thing was some big angel plan helped a tiny bit. If Sam knew he’d want Dean to share and cry it out but that wasn’t his style, not after the first time anyway. It was easier to just be  _okay_  and deal—drown it out with alcohol when he had to.  
  
He’d known deep down though that there should have been more dreams but it made sense Castiel kept some of them at bay.  
  
He shrugged, going for nonchalant. “I don’t dream about it that much anymore. Guess I’m over it.”  
  
Castiel gazed at him. “I hardly doubt that nor do I expect you to be…over it. The healing process takes time.”  
  
Dean frowned. Sometimes he really hated how the angel just  _knew_  him, man. From that first damn moment in that fucken barn when he’d stripped his bravado bare he’d just never stopped. “Whatever.” The handprint seared into his shoulder twitched and he scratched at it, idly tracing the raised flesh. “Point is I’m fine. Let’s just leave it at that.”  
  
His friend sighed but didn’t push the issue. “Alright.” There was a soft rustling noise and then a heavy wing was hitting him in the face.  
  
Okay, the wing thing. Dean didn’t consider himself to be a creeper or the sort of person who liked fetishes. Honestly he wasn’t sure if his love of Busty Asian Beauties counted as a fetish because he loved busty beauties in general. And some non-busty beauties. Just beauties, really. But it was different with wings for some reason. It wasn’t like he checked out birds or whatever but from the moment he’d seen the shadow of Cas’ wings he’d thought about them off and on. Wondered what they really looked like or felt like. Now that he could see them and touch them without blood leaking out of his ears, he knew he wouldn’t be able to stop himself from doing so.  
  
Which could get strange very quickly except Castiel was apparently okay with it. He should probably find out why.  
  
“So…” He began even as his fingers inched towards the feathers. “Is this something I’m gonna have to watch you for now? You gonna be flashing me like some pervert?”  
  
“I was under the impression you enjoyed being close to my wings.” Castiel said dryly.   
  
“Heh well…” Dean had a feeling he was going to regret teaching him sarcasm. “I meant is this something you’d been wanting to do but couldn’t because it would hurt me.”  
  
“Perhaps.” Castiel replied glibly. “I admit it is nice to be able to share them with you. With all of the other angels either indifferent to me or hunting me, I’ve missed certain rituals that we used to take part in. Mainly grooming.”  
  
Dean swallowed thickly as traces of guilt crawled up the walls of his throat. When he’d demanded that Castiel think for himself and do the right thing he hadn’t exactly thought about what consequences the angel would face afterwards. Now he felt like a piece of shit for talking him into leaving his home and his family, especially what with him losing his powers and stuff.  
  
A memory of Castiel sucking down prescription pills and lamenting his old  _better_  life flashed before his eyes and he cursed to himself. How could he have been so selfish?  
  
“I’m sorry.” Dean found that he wanted to avoid Castiel’s gaze but couldn’t…which was usually the case. “I—I never should have asked you to rebel. I was just desperate to get to Sammy and stop Lucifer.”  
  
“It was the right thing to do.” The angel whispered. “I am not angry with you, Dean. I always knew unleashing Hell on Earth was wrong but I convinced myself that I was following my Father’s orders. I wanted them to be  _His_  orders so badly because like others I had stopped feeling his presence. I do not regret my decision—my first true act of free will.”  
  
“But you miss your home and your family. They’re dicks but I get it.” Pause. “As corny as it sounds there is no place like home.”  
  
“Yes. My brothers and sisters remain dear to me even now, and my greatest hope is to see them again and be embraced by them.” He looked up at the ceiling and beyond. “But I think down here with you and Sam that I am truly doing God’s work. He loved all of you so much; he would want me to save you.”  
  
“What about your wing crap?”  
  
“The grooming? I had thought you could help me. If you wish.”  
  
“If you want—I mean sure. What do I gotta do?”  
  
“Simply help keep my feathers in order and clean. Tend to any wounds they may suffer in the future.”  
  
Dean could do that, he could totally do that. It was such a small thing really for the nerdy little dude that had saved his life time and time again. And yeah okay he  _wanted_  to do it anyway, and it was the perfect excuse to get his fondle on without being overly dramatic about it. “I’m gonna figure out how to whip mine out so this isn’t all one-sided.”  
  
Castiel seemed please with that idea. “I am curious as to what they look like.”  
  
So was Dean. “Hey Cas, I know you said Jimmy was a vessel and whatnot, and that he’s probably gone now since you have been blown up since then so…is this  _you_  now?”  
  
The wing covering much of Dean’s upper body flapped once. “This body is now a part of me, yes. When I was at full power I could shed it like a snake sheds its skin. I suppose if I tried to do that now it would leave the vessel with the appearance of being brain dead.” He explained. “If you are inquiring as to the appearance of my true form; I am a wavelength of celestial intent. Able to be everywhere and nowhere all at once. I span across all of space and time neither flesh nor bone but the very air itself. Like the universes beyond the one you know I am infinite.”  
  
Picturing such a thing was impossible but it sounded epic. And terrifying. “Guess I look like an ant to you or something huh?”  
  
Castiel reached over and pressed two fingers to Dean’s pulse point. “To me you are paper thin and breakable. So flawed and fragile, suffering from many vices and surrounded by many ailments that can easily destroy you. Not unlike an ant actually. And yet you are also strong and tenacious. You are the ant that has saved the world countless times, not for recognition or fame or glory but because you have decided it is your responsibility.” A beat. “To me you are magnificent and I am honored to call you a friend.”  
  
Dean’s face was on fire, he was never sure how to deal with compliments. It wasn’t like he got them all the time—just the opposite really. People  _expected_  him to do well and when he did anything less they judged him for it. He judged himself. When he was depressed they simply told him to suck it up and do better. Either be perfect or go home. Yet there was no way he could be perfect and he didn’t have a home to go to. So he just…was.  
  
Change the subject! “So grooming.” He hauled himself up to lean against the headboard. “They uh, they look okay to me. Any problem spots?”  
  
“No.” Castiel shook them.  
  
Saying fuck it, Dean grabbed the one closest to him and petted like it was a cute fluffy animal. He could get used to this. “Thanks, Cas.”  
  
He didn’t say what for but as usual Castiel knew. “You’re welcome Dean.”  
  
~*~  
  
After breakfast Dean plopped himself down into the floor of Bobby’s study with several books so that he could get in on their researching. He had no damn idea what he was looking for so starting basically considered of picking whatever looked the oldest and giving it a try. Bobby had books in all shapes, sizes and languages and he could understand every one of them. As far as Dean knew he was self taught too which was pretty damn cool. It was no wonder other hunters trusted him and often turned to him for advice.  
  
Sam had decided to take a different approach and was using his laptop, to which Dean had joked he didn’t think Wikipedia would have what they were looking for. There  _were_  in fact some things you couldn’t Google, not that that was going to stop Sam in the slightest. His massive form was bent over the keyboard and every so often flicking pieces of hair out of his face. He was so calm about all of this.  
  
“Hey.” Dean threw a balled up piece of paper at him. “You okay?”  
  
His brother arched a brow. “I’m fine. Why?”  
  
Dean shrugged. “You haven’t tried to get me to talk about my feelings once.”  
  
Sam snorted. “Do you  _wanna_  talk about your feelings, Dean?”  
  
He sent him a blank look. “No. But I guess I’m just used to you whining at me either way.”  
  
Sam grinned despite himself. “If I thought you were having trouble with this then yeah I would try to get you to open up. But you seem to be okay for the most part. And besides Cas isn’t worried so…” They both looked to where Castiel was perched, idly flipping through the biggest, heaviest manuscript that Bobby owned. “He would never just sit and read if you were in any danger. He’d be off trying to find a solution.”  
  
True. “Speaking of, he’s gonna be hanging with us long term. Gonna teach him how to be a hunter.”  
  
“I figured as much.” Sam said smugly. “It’s cool with me. Honestly I like it when Cas is around because it means there is someone else there to watch your back while  _you_  watch everyone  _else’s_  back.”  
  
“You sound like he’s gonna make me eat my vegetables or something.”  
  
“He might. I would fully support that and I’m sure your organs would too.”  
  
“Of course you would Samantha.”  
  
“It would be prudent for you to eat a fruit every now and then.” Castiel responded while reading. “The apple filing in a pie does not count.”  
  
 _Crazy talk!_  “If you’re gonna gang up on me with Gloria Child over there you can just flitter on off. Or better yet you and Sam can braid each others’ hair while talking about what you wanna keep in your hope chests.”  
  
Sam took a swig of his bottled water but he had a little smile on his face. “And would that chest be at the foot of your bed, Dean?”  
  
Dean pretended not to hear him. It was one thing for him to  _know_  where Castiel had slept last night and another entirely to talk about it. “Anyway. Cas after we make sure I’m not the spawn of Chucky or whatever we’re gonna be heading out. We can stop by the Good Will if you want and get you some clothes.”  
  
Castiel’s finger paused on the page he was skimming. “I do not mind wearing yours. They are comfortable.”  
  
He liked the sound of that and kinda hated himself for it. “Oh. Okay you can do that but I just thought you’d want something of your own. So it’s like  _yours_ , ya know?”  
  
The angel brightened a little. “Yes. Perhaps I will choose something. I am quite fond of pockets.”  
  
Only Cas could manage to be a million years old and endearing at the same time. “Awesome.”  
  
“If you two idgits are done flirting…” Bobby interrupted gruffly. “Listen to this. It’s from the book of Daniel.  _He replied, Do you know why I have come? Soon I must return to fight against the spirit prince of the kingdom of Persia, and after that the spirit prince of the kingdom of Greece will come. Meanwhile, I will tell you what is written in the Book of Truth. (No one helps me against these spirit princes except Michael, your spirit prince.)_ ”  
  
“And that means?” Dean asked.  
  
“It is Gabriel speaking to Daniel.” Castiel replied without hesitation. “He is explaining why it took him so long to answer Daniel’s prayers. It is because he and Michael were fighting demons. Fallen angels.”  
  
Sam shifted in his chair. “Sounds like Michael was supposed to be all about saving people.” He glanced to his brother. “Sounds familiar.”  
  
Castiel exhaled and then recited from memory, “ _Michael, one of the holy angels, who, presiding over human virtue, commands the nations._  That is from the book of Enoch. He is also referenced as being merciful and patient—qualities which I do think Dean shares.”  
  
Dean’s forehead tightened as he frowned. “Yeah well when we popped back to the seventies to stop Anna from wasting our parents, he told me a lot of bullshit about how I couldn’t fight City Hall. Came off like every other angel douche-bag I’ve met…besides you.” In fact… “I kinda thought this whole jump start the apocalypse thing was his idea anyway.”  
  
Castiel slowly tilted his head to the side. “I assume Michael fell prey to the same longing and desire for our Father that many other angels experienced. He was always the dutiful son; if anyone felt his loss the most it would be Michael. But he loved humanity in his own way much like you do. He believed in protecting the earth from evil and corruption.”  
  
 _Wonder what the hell happened then?_  Dean thought to himself. How could Michael go from keeping people safe to wanting to boil half the planet just to get paradise? Was it really just because he missed his dad? Suddenly he remembered taking a crow bar to his car and hunting down vampires with a psycho. It wasn’t the same as killing half the population but he could—begrudgingly—sort of understand his state of mind. When you spend most of your life doing what your dad asks you and trying to be a good son, and he just ditches you, it does make you wonder if you screwed up somehow.  
  
While he had enjoyed his time out on his own he’d still wondered if John had left him because he’d stopped measuring up. Hell, maybe he’d never really measured up in the first place.  
  
Bobby coughed. “Well there is some stuff here about Revelation but I’m sure we’re all familiar with that. Not exactly much else.”  
  
“The Bible actually says very little about Michael.” Castiel explained to them.  
  
“So we’ll never figure out why I got his grace?”  _Great, just great. There goes our good luck._  
  
“I have been studying these texts and I have a theory however I am not sure it is one you wish to hear.” The angel had all of their attention now. “Lucifer is dead and the Apocalypse mentioned in Revelation has been thwarted but naturally evil still roams the planet. There is no way to be sure some other creature won’t try to destroy the world.” He wet his lips. “That some other malicious entity won’t rise up to take the devil’s place.”  
  
Sam tapped his pen against the desk. “What does that mean for Dean though?”  
  
Castiel linked his fingers together. “At one point many; many years ago angels and demons freely walked the earth much as they do now. Possessions were quite common when the world was new—when Lucifer was attempting to gain ground against Heaven, sending out his forces to corrupt the innocent and to spur the wicked into action. Daniel prayed and humbled himself before God and so Gabriel came to help him…to…interpret a dream he’d had about the future.” His brows narrowed. “Dean has also prayed and humbled himself before God, and he was willing to serve Heaven wholeheartedly otherwise he could not have destroyed the Whore of Babylon. Honestly? I think someone was impressed with Dean’s devotion to protect and Michael’s grace is his reward.”  
  
“But where is Michael?”  
  
“Michael… _is_  Dean.”  
  
“You mean Michael was reborn as Dean?”  
  
“No. I mean Michael has  _become_  Dean. My theory is that with Lucifer being gone, Michael felt out of place. His one mission effectively over, paradise out of reach and our Father still missing, he was at a loss of what do to. So he decided to go back to basics…as it were. He allowed himself to merge with Dean and to let Dean be the dominate force.”  
  
“Yeah but Lucifer died after Dean said yes.”  
  
“Time is nothing when you have the entire universe at your disposal.”  
  
Squeezing the bridge of his nose because of his oncoming headache, Dean scowled. “Okay, so you’re saying Michael has basically jumped ship to  _me_ , giving me his grace but he’s gonna lay low forever? I don’t know if I buy that. Wouldn’t he just try to get everything back on the rails?”  
  
In a very human gesture, Castiel rubbed the back of his neck. “To what purpose? Dean, Michael never wanted to kill Lucifer. He never wanted to fight him but he did and would have again because he felt it was the right thing to do. Now his brother is dead but the world is still being plagued by the vile and the violent. Michael is a protector of the people…just like you. Perhaps in the end he decided your course of action was best.”  
  
Sam jumped out of his seat. “So Michael is kinda like Dean’s vessel! Dean gets the powers and Michael just…sleeps or something, like with you and Jimmy? I didn’t know angels could do that.”  
  
Castiel smirked. “As the Prince of Heaven Michael can do whatever he pleases. This way he gets to help and yet he doesn’t have to make any of the hard choices. I have doubts that Michael will ever surface again…unless our Father returns. He is in essence trusting Dean to do the right thing by him and the innocents that need your help.”  
  
 _Shit_.  
  
It was kinda convoluted but it also made a weird sort of sense. And it freaked Dean the hell out. Getting up, he made his way into the kitchen and grabbed a beer from the fridge before stepping out onto the back porch. The Michael from the past had been a total asshole basically telling him that no matter what, he couldn’t defeat his destiny. That he was gonna be a pretty pink prom dress and help bring about the end of the world. It was fucken insane to think that because he had resisted tooth and nail that Michael had, what? Come to admire him? Remember the good old days of smiting demons?  
  
Of course Lucifer’s death played a major part.  
  
In some jacked up way killing his brother had become Michael’s purpose. Well the devil was iced; what now?   
  
“This is fucked up.” He mumbled to no one. “Why me?”  
  
It was selfish of Michael to wanna help people and yet not want to get his hands dirty. If he could he would reach down into his subconscious and kick his ass! And what if he  _did_  decide to pop up again? Dean didn’t wanna be on the crapper and suddenly lose control of limbs. Fuck, he hoped he stayed buried. He also hoped he could handle all of this shit.  
  
~*~  
  
“How’s he doing?”   
  
Castiel hummed from where he leaned against an aged truck, watching Dean attempt to lift heavy pieces of iron and rip the doors off of old cars. Strength training he had called it. “Your brother is determined to not show how bothered he is by our earlier discoveries. He has devoted himself to mastering his new abilities.”  
  
Sam smiled thoughtfully. “Sounds about right.” Pause. “You think he is going to be okay? That Michael won’t take him over?”  
  
“I am almost positive.” He replied. “Michael was never one for revenge; it would have made him no better than Lucifer.”  
  
“Do you really think Michael gave up his powers to help Dean hunt?” Sam bit his bottom lip. “Or is there something you’re not telling us?”  
  
In a fit of irritation, Dean growled and slammed his shoulder against an old pickup truck with no back wheels. It tilted onto its right side with a deep metal groan before going belly up, the top denting in onto the cab. He let out a  _woo_  and flashed them both a thumbs up. Things were uncertain but it was wonderful to see Dean smile. It made him hearken back to an arm around his shoulders with Dean’s honest laughter in his ears.  
  
“I think Michael saw potential in Dean that—after the fact—he chose to nurture instead of stifle.”  
  
“He does have a way with angels, doesn’t he?”  
  
For once what Sam was implying did not go over Castiel’s head. “I suppose though I can only speak for myself.”  
  
Sam scuffed his feet on the ground. “You know he’s really happy you’re gonna be hunting with us. And I am too.” He sighed. “It’s been a tough few months and I’m glad we all made it out in one piece.”  
  
 _Except for Ellen and Joanna Beth._  “Are you still worried about Lucifer?”  
  
Sam shook his head. “No I know he’s dead. I just—I’m worried I can’t go back to the person I was before him and Ruby and the demon blood crap. I don’t crave it anymore or anything but it did affect me. It urged me to do terrible things.” His face fell, his eyes distressed. “I nearly choked my own brother to death. And Dean says he’s okay and that it’s all water under the bridge but it never should have happened in the first place. I keep thinking what if I had done it? What if I had  _killed_  him?”  
  
Castiel knew the answer to that question; the angels would have simply brought him back. “It is best not to dwell on the past. You have a chance at a fresh start without the threat of the devil hanging over your head. Besides, we have all done regrettable things at one point or another. Things we must atone for.”  
  
“I’m gonna try to be a better brother.” He smiled. “Stop forgetting the pie for starters.”  
  
The angel shared his smile. “Dean would be very happy to hear that.”  
  
“Hey!” Bobby waved them all in from where he hung out of the back door. “We’ve got a visitor.”  
  
Falling in step beside each other, they entered the house to find Crowley sitting on the edge of Bobby’s desk. Castiel hated him on principle of course because he was a demon but Crowley was a particularly horrible sort being the King of the crossroads. He was devious and intelligent and more powerful than he was letting on. Which meant he was a danger to all of those around him, even if he had helped once or twice.  
  
Dean took one step into the room and stopped, his face morphing into a horrified grimace. “Holy shit.”  
  
Sam’s brows went up. “What’s wrong?”  
  
Dean shuddered. “I can see flickers of Crowley’s true face now and trust me, it ain’t pretty.”  
  
Crowley smirked. “Well someone has been eating his grace Wheaties…which is good because you’re going to need them. Bad news gents, you fucked up.”  
  
Dean waved a hand. “Get on with it asshole.”  
  
“One word. Croatoan.” The demon snapped. “It. Got. Out.”  
  
“What?” Sam gasped. “That’s impossible! We blew up the warehouse!”  
  
“You must have missed a spot.” Crowley rolled his eyes. “Maybe it was in one of those sniveling little survivors you just had to save. Either way it’s out there and you know what happens next boys and girls. We’re all fucked.”  
  
Castiel’s mind immediately recalled a passage in the book of Daniel about Michael;  _At that time Michael, the great prince who protects your people, will arise. There will be a time of distress such as not happened from the beginning of nations until then._  It wasn’t the entire segment but suddenly it felt very appropriate, especially if Crowley’s words were true. They were all about to be heavily tested.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter Four  
  
As far as demons went Crowley was just as fucked up as the rest of them, however he knew which side his bread was buttered on and it wasn’t Lucifer’s. He was the kinda guy that would sell his own mother out for a break hence helping them the best he could to keep the world from roasting. The fact that he needed people to be of sound mind to keep making deals was the only reason Dean even humored what he had to say. Towns full of Crote infested citizens wouldn’t do anyone any good, not even the King of the crossroads. Still Dean hoped he was just being an asshole and pulling their chains.  
  
Yeah there had been people in the warehouse screaming for help so he and Sam had  _helped_  them. Saved some chick in a pink shirt, and a man and a woman hiding behind large taped up packages of the so-called swine flu cure. But their eyes hadn’t been red and they damn sure hadn’t tried to kill anyone, not like the other poor suckers that eventually ended up with their heads blown off. When the place was clear Sam had laid the explosives and boom…no more Niveus.  
  
There was no way they could have missed it…unless the infected hadn’t cooked properly yet. Unless a more concentrated dose gave you instant jacked up raged filled maniac while say just a prick took a while to surface, like it had back in Rivergrove. In which case anyone could have it now and they wouldn’t know until someone came after them with a meat cleaver.  
  
Fuck!  
  
Sam shifted his long legs in the foot wells of the front seat, his fingers tapping frenetically against his knee. “What are we gonna do if Crowley is right? I mean there is no way to contain this thing.”  
  
Dean sighed from his place behind the wheel of the Impala. “Kill whatever we can, whatever tries to kill us. I don’t know about the rest. I’ve been thinking…” He wet his lips. “What if this is like in Rivergrove? Ya know where it takes a while to incubate or whatever? The whole town could have it and we’d have no idea until it was too late.”  
  
Sam’s expression said it all. “Hey Cas, is there any way to tell who has it? Like some kinda angel vision or whatever?”  
  
Castiel continued to gaze out of the window of the backseat as he spoke. “No, not until it manifests itself. However since what you have told me of the virus seems to be demon based, burning it out like one burns a demon would most likely be possible even though I doubt the host would survive.”  
  
So we are back to square one. “What do we know about this town?”  
  
Digging into his bag, Sam pulled out a few crumpled papers. “Okay. Galva, Iowa it’s a small town in Ida County; only about four hundred and thirty some people. I don’t know about you but if I had just seen a bunch of my co workers murdered hiding out in a small town sounds good to me.”  
  
Dean nodded and pressed down onto the accelerator. The car roared and gained speed, humming as it sailed along the highway. Green eyes darted up to the rearview mirror to take in the figure sitting quietly. It was obvious that Cas had a lot on his mind; hell he could totally relate. But in all honestly he wondered just how bad off the angel was when it came to his powers. Like was he sticking close because he knew it was what  _he_  wanted or was it because he didn’t have the juice to do otherwise?   
  
He hoped it wasn’t the latter.  
  
Defeating the devil and stopping his master plan had been worth ten of Dean’s lives but the thought of Cas losing his grace permanently for it didn’t sit right with him. That was probably because of his whole self sacrificing deal—something he’d never add to the long list of things he was actually ashamed of. It just made more sense for him to take on the brunt of everything. He’d never really wanted much out of life besides his family safe, a good burger and maybe a bed with magic fingers. He wasn’t like Sam who wanted a quiet little normal life someday away from the job. And when he thought about it, it just made more sense to die if dying meant others got what they wanted. So he’d die if it meant Cas got to keep his grace.  
  
Or he’d trade his own if that was what it took.  
  
Speaking of, had Michael knew this would happen? Had he seen the Croatoan bullshit and then decided to bow out instead of actually help them deal with it? God there were so many unanswered questions, and really while he was cool as hell Dean would never understand why Michael had done what he’d done. How he’d went from claiming you couldn’t beat City Hall to handing over the keys to the whole damn building.  
  
Though with Lucifer dead and God still AWOL, maybe he’d just decided fuck it. Let someone else do all the heavy lifting for a while.  
  
Dean sighed and Castiel’s head turned, their eyes meeting in the mirror. Powered down as he was, Dean couldn’t help but wonder if Cas could still read his mind. If not he was hella intuitive about his moods…which made sense because no one knew him like Cas did. Not even Sam. Maybe before Hell but not now.  
  
 _Heh._  
  
“Dean. Dean you’re gonna miss our exit!” Sam hit him in the shoulder.  
  
Jerking his eyes back onto the road, he cursed and cut off the car attempting to pass them, ignoring the angry honks as he merged off onto the exit they needed to take. He could tell his brother wanted to be an annoying little asshole but was thankful when he just grinned and shook his head. Castiel for his part went back to staring out the window like almost getting into a minor accident was an everyday thing.  
  
 _This is gonne be a long day_ , he thought to himself.  
  
~*~  
  
No matter how small the town there always seemed to be a diner on one of the lonely streets or off to itself in a parking lot. Usually there were a few people inside either truckers or locals dying for their morning coffee but  _O’Brien’s_  was totally vacant. Probably because of the gaping hole in one of the windows the size of a tire. In fact he wouldn’t be surprised if someone had thrown a tire through it. He just hoped his baby would be okay parked in front of it. He had no issues busting a cap in the ass of someone that tried to scratch her or dent her, Crote or not.  
  
Sam sniffed and glanced around with a frown. “This doesn’t look good.”  
  
Dean made sure his gun was loaded before tucking it into the band of his jeans. “No, it doesn’t.” Pause. “We should look around. Cas, you want a gun?”  
  
Castiel blinked at him. “Why would I need a firearm?”  
  
Dean waved a hand. “To shoot something if it comes after you.”  
  
Castiel turned and started walking. “I am still an angel, Dean. I can take care of myself.”  
  
Dean huffed but didn’t say anything else on the matter. “Okay. Let’s get going then.”  
  
Vacant streets during a work day didn’t have to be a bad thing but their luck never shifted that way. Dean figured everyone was hiding or dead, or already infected and waiting to rip their balls off. Four hundred and some Crotes could do a lot of danger if not contained. Or destroyed.  
  
His spidey senses were tingling but he didn’t feel particularly amped up but then he’d already decided to put his trust into what always worked; his trigger finger and a loaded gun.  
  
There was no debris laying in the road or cars with their doors still open. It sorta looked like everyone just decided to stay home for some reason. “You think people are hiding out?”  
  
Sam shrugged. “Could be. Waiting for the cops or whatever if something happened. Maybe we should go to the police station and see if there have been any disturbances.”  
  
Good idea. “Let’s go.”  
  
They made their way without incident to the police station to find two lonely people inside, the receptionist and an itchy looking newbie pacing back and forth in front of her desk. He drew his Beretta the minute they stepped inside, his hand trembling to keep it steady.  
  
“Whoa, whoa calm down.” Dean lifted both his hands into the air. “I’m Agent Bonham and these are my partners Agent Copeland…and Agent Moscone. I got my badge in my front pocket if you wanna see it.”  
  
Jumpy’s brown eyes darted between them before he slowly reached into Dean’s jacket, pulling out his fake badge with a fumbling tug. He looked it over and his entire expression morphed into one of relief. “Oh! I—I’m sorry Agents. I—things have been really weird here. Sorry.” He handed it back, one apparently enough for him to have belief in.  
  
Dean took it easily. “No problem. We uh, got a tip that something strange was going on here. Thought since we were in the area we’d check it out. What’s your name?”  
  
“Riggs. William Riggs. And this is Rebecca.” He pointed to the pretty redhead watching them. “The Sheriff is out at the moment I’m afraid. In fact most of the department is out…”  
  
“Why?” Sam asked. “What’s going on?”  
  
“It—it’s hard to say really.” Officer Riggs stammered. “We got a call that this man’s niece was going crazy, tearing up his house and hitting him. We thought it was a routine domestic case but when police arrived on the scene she was  _insane_. She’d beat the hell out of her uncle and then attacked one of the officers, nearly ripping a chunk out of his neck with her teeth.” He sighed sadly. “They had to shoot her. She died on the scene but they took her uncle to the hospital.”  
  
“Is he there now?” Sam inquired, managing to be comforting and inquisitive at the same time. “We’d really like to talk to him.”  
  
“He was but, hell three hours later and  _he_  was going crazy too. Attacked a few nurses and other patients. Barricaded them all up in the morgue with him.” Riggs realized he still had his gun out and put it away. “Our town is small so thankfully we were able to get all of the patients sent to the town over. The Sheriff took a few men to the hospital to hopefully talk the man down and…he’s been gone ever sense.”  
  
Fuck. “How long ago was that?”  
  
Riggs whimpered. “Almost three hours. Rebecca and I are waiting for them to come back before we call in reinforcements. Or maybe even the damn CDC—heard those people might have had something to make them act like that.”  
  
Smoothing a hand over his face, Dean shook his head. “No. Look what you and your friend here are gonna do is stay here right with the doors locked until we come back. Do you understand me? Don’t let _anyone_  in no matter how good you know them. And don’t call anyone else.”  
  
Riggs swallowed but nodded. “Ye—yes sir.”  
  
“Good. Now where is the hospital?”  
  
“Over on Main Street. You can’t miss it really.”  
  
Turning on his heels, Dean stalked out with Sam and Castiel behind him. He could hear Riggs locking the door behind them as he headed in the direction the young officer had pointed. There was no sense in pretending this could be some regular case of crazy people, especially when all signs pointed to the Croatoan virus. So far he could guess the niece infected the uncle and after he got revved up, he went after anyone within reach. It was safe to say the Sheriff and his good men were probably already infected as well, either waiting to turn or just turning.  
  
Shit, that sounded like ten or more people waiting to do some damage. He hoped they had enough bullets.  
  
Rounding the corner of a clothing store, Sam put on his bitch face. “What are we planning to do, exactly? What if the Sheriff and his officers have been infected but haven’t turned yet? Can we really just…shoot them?”  
  
Dean cringed inwardly because he honestly wasn’t sure what the right answer was. “I don’t know, Sam. I  _do_  know however we can’t let any of those things get out.”  
  
Sam gazed at him. “What if they already have? If any of the patients were attacked you know they were sent to another hospital somewhere for treatment. I mean we can’t just go from town to town hunting for the infected especially when we don’t know who the infected  _are_.”  
  
The words were there on his brother’s tongue, he could tell. Words he didn’t want to utter out loud because the truth of them was just too much to take in. “I know,” he said softly. “But we can kill the sons of bitches here. Afterwards we’ll head back to Bobby’s and regroup. Try to come up with some kinda game plan.”  
  
That appeared enough for Sam at the moment. “Okay. Let’s—”  
  
The sound of glass shattering cut Sam off and Dean found himself being grabbed roughly by the shoulders by hands that bruised before he was tossed into what was left of the shop window. He grunted as he crashed into several metal clothing racks, pain blooming in his lower back when he hit the floor. He heard Sam yell and then another smash, turning over just in time to see his brother come flying through the door and into the counter.  
  
“Sam!” Dean shouted.  
  
Their attacker immediately honed on to the sound of his voice and jumped on him. It was a woman with bloody nails, red eyes and stained teeth that looked like they’d been gnashing something. She screeched and tried to claw at his face, stronger than any normal human had a right to be. Dean held her hands back with one hand and fumbled for his gun as he tried to buck her off of him.  
  
Suddenly she was wretched away and tossed carelessly into a wall. She slammed into it hard but was up in a second, snarling like a crazed animal and charging. Dean watched as Castiel picked up a plastic hanger and jammed it straight through her eye, sending it out the back of her skull. She dropped to the floor like a stone, not even twitching.  
  
“Ugh.” He slowly sat up. “Thanks.”  
  
“My pleasure.” Castiel replied helping him to stand.  
  
“Sammy?” Dean swerved around Castiel to check on his brother. “You okay?”  
  
Sam groaned. “Yeah. Crap. I’d forgotten how strong they are.” A beat. “You think they’re wandering around or starting to leave the hospital?”  
  
 _I think we’re screwed no matter where they are._  “Hopefully just leaving the hospital.” He touched the tender skin of his lower back. “I guess we could get up onto the roof and pick them off one by one.”   
  
Sam snorted. “And hope they all come this way?”  
  
He smiled sadly. “I guess so unless you got a better idea.”  
  
His brother scratched the back of his head. “You can’t…do your Michael thing to get rid of them?”  
  
Dean rolled his shoulders. The last thing he wanted to depend on was  _that_. “I don’t even know what my  _Michael thing_  is. And while I’m trying to get it to work they could be kicking me to death.” He wanted to ask Cas if he could do it but knew he couldn’t. And he wasn’t about to rub that in. “If we could get them all into one place we could at least get rid of them.”  
  
Sam blinked. “How about we lure them here, lock them in and set the building on fire. Then we could tell Riggs to just tell everyone else to leave. If the whole town burns, well, it’s better than the alternative.”  
  
It was a sick plan but he liked it. “Sounds good to me. How do we get them here?”  
  
Sam pushed floppy hair out of his eyes. “They want more people to infect right? I think causing a fuss would work. One of us can yell from the roof while the other waits behind a dumpster or something. Once they are inside—”  
  
“The other sets the place on fire.” Dean finished for him. “Okay you hide and I’ll get them here.” Sam opened his mouth to protest but Dean cut him off again. “No Sam, I got this. I can heal and you can’t.”  
  
“And how do you plan to get out of a burning building?” Sam snapped.  
  
“Fly of course.” Dean said sarcastically. “Now go. I saw a gas tank on the side when we walked by. You shoot that and it’s lights out for those Crote bastards. Cas…”  
  
“Will stay with you.” Castiel responded, and obviously the subject was closed.  
  
With a self-satisfied expression, probably because he knew there was no arguing with Castiel, Sam thrust his nose into the air and strolled towards the back of the store and out into the alley. Dean made a mental note to kick him in the ass later and motioned for Castiel to follow him before heading up a flight of stairs off to the right into what looked to be a storage area. The musky smell of old boxes and moldy cardboard burned his nose as he spied a rusty fire escape with a squeaky ladder leading up to the roof.  
  
He slipped out onto it and after a few hard yanks got the ladder to come down enough so that he could hoist himself up and continue until he was climbing over the edge of the roof. Once he was safe he watched Castiel do the same without any trouble as well as bringing the ladder back up.  
  
Pulling out his gun, he let its comforting weight calm him down. Not much really scared him anymore thanks to Hell but he could still get nervous. “You should have gone with Sam.”  
  
Castiel cocked his head to the side. “Sam is quite capable of looking out for himself. He will not let himself be seen.”  
  
Dean licked his lips. “And you think I can’t look out for myself?”  
  
Castiel’s eyebrow barely lifted. “I think you don’t know how to ask for help even when you need it. You want Sam to be safe and yet you have no real regard for your own safety. So I am here to make sure this all…goes according to plan as it were.”  
  
Lately it seemed to Dean that only Cas could say something so simple and yet make it feel like a hand was reaching into his chest and squeezing his heart. He was always just so honest and earnest about shit, which wasn’t a code most people lived by. Lies were safe. Lies were often the difference between hurt feelings and restraint. John didn’t have much restraint when it came to telling him what he’d done wrong, and he hoarded his compliments like a bear getting ready to hibernate. But Cas said whatever he wanted to say because he hadn’t learned not to. And it was infuriating at times and embarrassing at others, but he kinda hoped it never stopped.  
  
Exhaling away the jittery feeling on his flesh, he looked out over the small town. “Yeah well, I want you safe too. For the record.”  
  
Castiel stared at the side of his face. “I have never exactly thought otherwise. However I understand that you are willing to sacrifice for the greater good.”  
  
Dean frowned because it wasn’t that straightforward. He’d die in a minute if it meant saving the world but he hated it when others died for  _him_. “I’d never sacrifice you for the greater good. In case you haven’t noticed Cas but Sam and I aren’t really drowning in family right now. Besides my baby brother and Bobby I got nothing. Except you. Dying in a blaze of glory with my friends at my side is one thing. Throwing one into the fire to save my own ass? Never happen.” He thought about Ellen and Jo; the look on their faces when they realized they weren’t getting out of that hardware store. Even now he saw that look in his dreams. “Bottom line…no one else is gonna die on my watch.”  
  
Putting a hand on his shoulder, Castiel squeezed. “You can’t save everyone Dean, though I know you will continue to try.”  
  
Defiant, Dean’s jaw clenched. “Watch me.” Inching closer to the ledge, he started to shout. “Hey! Up here you sons a bitches! Hey! Anyone around that wants to rip me a part!” He waved his arms. “Well here I am! Come and get it! Grade A long pig right here!”  
  
All was quiet for a few minutes and then growls sounded, hungry-like grumbles that grew louder as dirty blood covered people ran down the street. There were about seventeen of them with some in police uniforms and others in hospital scrubs. They were ravenous, pushing and shoving each other like rabid animals trying to get to the meat when to be honest he wasn’t even sure they actually  _ate_  anything. They seemed more likely to just scratch and slash and break until nothing was left.  
  
It wasn’t clear how much clarity they had left but they spotted Dean and tumbled into the store like a herd of elephants. He could hear them scrambling to find a way up while turning over anything in their path, being driven by the basic primal instincts to the sounds of drums only they could make out. It made him shiver but he pushed down his nerves and tapped a rhythm on the metal of the ladder until one poked its head out of the window, eyes red like a coal of fire.  
  
Immediately it—or rather the man—was reaching for him. Dean watched with a calm face as others followed and when they realized they couldn’t get to him they got angrier, slamming themselves up against the brick until the fire escape shook violently.  
  
Dean lowered the ladder just a little, just within reach and then swiftly moved over to the side where Sam was ducking down behind a large dumpster. “Think you can zap us back to the police station before we’re crispy critters?”  
  
Castiel nodded once. “Yes.”  
  
A bald head popped over the side of the roof and Dean smiled. “Showtime.”   
  
Between one second and the next he was standing beside Sam who wasted no time firing a bullet straight into the large white propane tank. It sparked a blast so quick that Dean felt the severe heat on his face and wondered if he had any eyebrows left before he was blinking up at the police station, and watching a ball of fire explode into the sky from a few blocks over. It rumbled the small town and blew out a few windows while setting off several car alarms.  
  
Riggs and Rebecca ran out of the building in a panic, gasping at what they saw.  
  
“What the hell was that?!” Riggs demanded. “Did—did you blow up something!?”  
  
Dean touched his forehead; eyebrows intact. Good. “You’re gonna wanna get out of town.” He looked Sam over to make sure he was okay and then turned to Castiel who thankfully didn’t look any worse for wear either.   
  
Riggs shook his head. “No we—we need to call the fire department and—”  
  
Dean had grabbed the collar of his uniform before really registering what he’d done. “Forget the fire department! The whole town burning to the ground would be a good thing!” He let the simpering man go after a minute. “If there is anyone left that you know about who wasn’t at the hospital, get them and go. You got me?”  
  
Riggs didn’t protest any further. “Yes sir.”  
  
Aggravated, Dean stormed off to where he’d left the Impala parked. The last thing he wanted to do was leave knowing there was a chance more of those things were out there but it wasn’t like they had a real choice. And it sucked but he was like ninety percent sure some of those patients had been infected and were now off to turn and infect more people. They’d never be able to track everyone down. They’d saved the world only to see it doomed and fucked up in another way. Why couldn’t they just  _win_  for once? Why did everything have to be so goddamn hard for the good guys?  
  
Once they reached the car he climbed behind the wheel and sat there, staring at the large plumes of smoke that filtered into the air. He could smell it from here; burning rubber with a distinct hint of flesh. Death. “Crowley was right. We are fucked.”  
  
Sam sighed but didn’t disagree. “What do we do now? I don’t think there is any possible way we can stop this.”  
  
Flashes of 2014 made Dean shift uneasily. “There ain’t unless we start popping off whoever looks at us funny and we all know that ain’t happening. The most we can do is kill the ones we know are fucked up and—shit—I don’t know. I’d suggest we pray but that’s never done us any good.” Pause. “Let’s go. We don’t wanna be here if any cops from wherever show up.”  
  
~*~  
  
Reading Dean’s mind had been a privilege that Castiel never took lightly especially after he got the impression that Dean would rather he not do it. However he felt it was necessary to navigate their relationship and of course back then to push Zachariah’s agenda. Now that he was cut off from Heaven he didn’t have that particular power anymore and out of the many he could call upon, that was one he missed the most and at times not at all. For all of his blustering Dean was not the best at hiding his emotions. His eyes and his face always betrayed him in moments of panic, true happiness and worry. And right now Dean was consumed with worry.  
  
After leaving Galva with heavy hearts over what they were not able to accomplish, they’d drove far enough to be considered safe before stopping at a little out of the way place for gas. Sam was leaning against the hood with a pen dangling from the corner of his mouth, tracking potential hot spots that might arise from where the Galva hospital patients had been transferred to. Dean was staring into space as the car was filled with gasoline, his arms folded tensely over his chest.  
  
Before Dean Winchester Castiel had watched humans from afar and while he’d marveled at his Father’s creations he’d found them to be utterly impossible to understand. They were rash, violent and dreadful things at times. Apparently doomed to repeat history with wars and bigotry no matter how much they grew. Yet there was also so much beauty surrounding them and all of the simple things they found joy in.  
  
Watching their child take their first steps.  
  
The changing of the seasons when the leaves would turn red and gold.  
  
Their excitement over joining with another human in the holy bonds of marriage.  
  
All things angels scorned as trivial because they couldn’t begin to understand the  _point_. Because they were light and air and shadow, and something as silly as snowfall meant nothing to them. Uriel had called them mud monkeys and Zachariah hadn’t cared how many died in the once forthcoming war. Only Anna had the foresight to realize how amazing humans were, going so far as to become one herself.  
  
 _She would probably be helping now had I not turned her in. Had I not allowed the pain of reeducation to sway my earlier thoughts of what was right._  
  
He mourned Anna, Uriel and even Zachariah to a certain extent. He mourned all of the angels that had died at his hands but he got it now or at least he felt he would eventually. That niggling question of  _why_ he’d asked himself while sitting in that playground with Dean; while trying to determine the source of his doubts over raining down death and destruction upon the innocent as well as the guilty.  
  
Because  _life_  mattered. Because  _life_  was worth fighting for.  
  
The Croatoan outbreak was going to happen but he knew Sam and Dean would never stop fighting. They’d called Bobby and told him the bad news, and Bobby had swore loudly before explaining how he would warn other hunters—ones he trusted—about the oncoming storm. He’d mentioned a Lee Chambers and his daughter Krissy as well as a “fool” named Garth. Supplies would start to be gathered and safe houses would begin to be set up.  
  
Castiel looked down at his hands and made a fist. With all of his powers he could have done something, done  _more_. Saved more though the fact that he could still save Dean made up for what he had lost, a little anyway. A part of him was tempted to go to Heaven and seek help but he honestly wasn’t sure the state it was in. If he would be welcomed back or killed on sight. The latter would upset Dean and he didn’t wish to die especially not when he was obviously needed.  
  
And it wasn’t like Dean needed another thing to worry about.  
  
Kicking at a small stone, he sidled up beside Dean. “Are you alright?”  
  
Dean’s lips twitched. “Sure.”  
  
“You don’t have to lie to me.” Castiel told him. “Today has been trying and I know that you are upset you couldn’t save more people. The ones you  _did_  save are thankful.”  
  
“Will they still be thankful when they’re neck deep in Crotes?” He muttered. “I’ve seen the future Cas and it’s fucked up.”  
  
“What you saw was what Zachariah  _wanted_  you to see. You have already changed much of it. And there is a chance that with Michael’s grace we will find a solution before things get out of hand.” A chill in the air caused goosebumps to break out along Castiel’s skin. He smoothed his hand over them, barely feeling them.  
  
Dean—ever the perceptive one—noticed and reached into the backseat, yanking out the jacket he’d discarded earlier. “Here. We’ll get you some stuff on our way back to Bobby’s.”  
  
Castiel didn’t exactly need the coat but he took it anyway and put it on. “Thank you.” A beat. “I think the world will have a better chance of dealing with the infected because of you. It will not be easy but I suppose nothing worth fighting for is.”  
  
“This ain’t what you signed up for.”  
  
“No. But then I…signed up for paradise until I learned a better way.”  
  
“Sure you wouldn’t rather be back up with your frat brothers laughing at us poor mooks down here?”  
  
“I am right where I chose to be, Dean. And I can do that because of you. No matter what happens I will never resent you for showing me the value of choice.”  
  
Their eyes locked for a long moment before Dean’s dropped down to his lips. He cleared his throat but his arms unfolded and his body language shifted from tense to something else. “Heh. So um, wonder if they got any pie in there?”  
  
“I’m afraid pie isn’t on the menu for you Deano.” Came a female voice that made them all jolt to attention and stare at her.  
  
Dean’s gun clicked as he pointed it at her. “Meg.”


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter Five  
  
As always Meg looked so damn smug like she had managed to outsmart everyone around her. She was in the same clothes from Carthage and flanked by four burly looking men Dean knew to be demons. He could just glimpse their true faces and of course Meg’s was the worst, gnarled and twisted with hollow eye holes and razor sharp teeth; the skin pulsing like there was something vile living underneath. He wouldn’t have been surprised to find out there actually was.  
  
“What the fuck do you want?” He asked warily.   
  
She thumbed her belt loops, rocking back on her heels. “Gotta say Dean, I’m shocked you were able to  _actually_  pull it off. Were I a bettin’ girl I’d be out some serious cash right about now. Seriously. I mean the stupid Winchesters ganking the devil? It just didn’t make any sense. Thought I was being punked.”  
  
He smirked haughtily. “When are you assholes gonna learn to stop underestimating us? Should be a lesson learned by now especially after what we did to your  _previous_  fucked up father figure.”  
  
She rolled her dark eyes. “I don’t see how getting an Archangel to do your dirty work makes you look good. What? Your daddy’s dead so you had to kill mine too? And here I thought you wanted everyone to get along.”  
  
It was obvious that Meg had something up her sleeve because when did she not? It made Dean tense, his finger itching to pull the trigger even though technically it wouldn’t do any real damage. “You  _love_  to hear yourself talk, don’t you? Is this the part where you tell me you just weren’t hugged enough as a child?”  
  
Meg grinned. “Look at you wearing your big boy pants. You’ve got extra pep in your step. Why is that? Finally teach Clarence how to ride reverse cow girl style? There is something different about you that I can’t put my finger on.” She squinted at him. “No wait, there it is. All that yummy self loathing you keep stored up for special occasions. I’ll save you for last so that you can put it to good use.”  
  
With a flick of her hand Dean and Sam found themselves crashing back into the brick wall of the store, hitting it hard before falling to the ground. Two of her big cronies stalked over and dragged them to their feet, striking them about the face and in the stomach. Dean grunted and managed to get his hand around the hilt of Ruby’s knife only to find it knocked away to skitter across the parking lot. The demon holding him—a bald dude—grinned before tossing him unceremoniously into a trash can. He heard Sam yell and looked up to see him sail over the hood of the Impala like a giant rag doll.  
  
Pain thrummed up from his stomach and into his chest; bruises were already starting to bloom on his skin. A cut over his eye leaked blood down the side of his face and into his lashes but he could still make out the blurry images of Castiel fighting the other two demons that were dressed like truckers instead of bikers. It was like a choreographed dance with Castiel dodging punches and spinning away from their meaty hands. He leaned far back like someone outta the Matrix to avoid a chop to the throat, grabbing the demon’s wrist and twisting until it cracked. Said demon cried out and suddenly lit up like a Christmas tree, and Castiel took a step back, his silver angel sword dangling from between his deft fingers.   
  
The second wasted no time jumping on him with seemingly no fear at being destroyed. He punched Castiel violently in the side, breaking several ribs on impact. Castiel cringed but didn’t give up. He twirled his sword and struck the trucker in the nose, driving him back until he was leaning against the passenger door of the Impala. He socked him in the eye and drove his sword down hard into the creature’s neck, breathing heavily as the demon slumped down dead.  
  
“Guess you’re not as impotent as I thought.” Meg mused as her eyes slid over him appreciatively. “But didn’t anyone ever tell you not to bring a knife to a gun fight?” Smirking she sent him gliding over the back of the vehicle where he hit the windshield so hard that it cracked in several places.   
  
Castiel rolled off the trunk and Meg was on him instantly, the sound of her blows to his face echoing loudly in all of their ears. His lip split and blood trickled down along his chin, and she smeared her fingers across it, bringing it to her mouth with an evil smile.   
  
Dean growled and tried to stand, to throw himself at her or something but Baldy plucked him up before he could do anything and held him steadfast. The second biker leapt onto Sam like a leather clad frog and started choking him, his beefy hands tightening around Sam’s neck until his legs were thrashing for purchase and his cheeks were turning blood red.  
  
Meg picked up Castiel’s sword and looked it over as he tried to get his wits about him. “I think it’s time to say good-bye to Clarence, Deano. It’s kinda funny—the way I keep breaking your toys. Do angels go to Heaven when they die?” Raising the sword high over her head, she winked at him as he struggled. “Eh let’s find out.”  
  
Dean heard himself yell out but it almost felt like it came from someone else’s mouth. Sam’s legs were moving less and Castiel was dazed, and he was about to lose everything that mattered in one fail swoop.  
  
It started as a pricked twinge in his brain and then everything just…slowed. It was like someone had pressed the slow motion button on the dvd player except he was still moving normally. He didn’t know how he  _knew_  what to do next but he went with it because he had to do  _something_  or his brother and his best friend were going to die. He slapped his palm flat against Baldy’s forehead and a heat he’d never experienced before rushed out of his hand and into the demon’s head. It charged through him like a tidal wave until smoke was erupting from his wide eyes and he was screaming, red light bursting out of his gaping mouth. He fell to the cement dead a moment later nothing but an eyeless human corpse.  
  
Stepping over him, Dean set his sights on the demon currently choking his brother. Time whooshed back into place like it was supposed to be but it was obvious Meg and her flunky had seen everything. Having no loyalty to his once mistress, biker dude jumped up and attempted to run but Dean was too quick for him. To pissed off to let him get away scot free. He thrust out his hand and a bright white light exploded like a dying star from the tangled life lines of his palm, incinerating the demon to nothing but a pile of black ash.  
  
There was no snappy comeback from Meg after witnessing what happened. It was clear she was shocked and confused and maybe even scared but as always she had enough common sense to not stick around. She threw her head back with a shriek, sending a billowing cloud of dark smoke from her host’s lips.  
  
“Not this time, bitch.” Dean stuck his hand into the mass and latched on, watching as it flailed like a slimy fish on land, the tail end knocking over a gas tank. He squeezed and Meg ignited from the inside, more brilliantly illuminated than the other two. He could just make out her true face twisting and caught in a silent scream before she blew up like a massive firecracker, raining down glowing leftover embers.  
  
That was when he smelled it. His head jerked just in time to see the puddle of gasoline from the leaking hose growing bigger and bigger, stretching outwards like stringy limbs. It only took one little cinder to start a fire, to send reddish yellow flames streaking back towards the source at a speed that could hardly be matched by anything.  
  
Dean  _moved_. He grabbed Castiel around the chest and darted over to Sam, laying them both side by side and covering them with his own body. The explosion that happened next rocked the entire street and probably the highway across the vacant corn field; sending cars skidding into the ditch. It sent the three petrol tanks shooting into the air like flaming metal shuttles into space. Fire was  _everywhere_ , blazing so hot that it melted the blacktop, turning it into a soupy sticky mess. The store was half gone, the other half burning steadily, the shelves of old chips and cupcakes crackling loudly.  
  
He could see through it all however—through the wall of flames surrounding him. He could feel the warmth on his skin but it was like nothing really. No burns and no pain. With a deep exhale and a slow blink he extinguished it all, shuddering from all of the power coursing through his veins, his pores, his cells. He swallowed hard and looked down to find Castiel staring up at him in awe. Sam groaned and his lashes fluttered but before he could open his eyes, Castiel smacked a hand over them.  
  
“No, Sam.” He said gravely. “Do not look or you will be harmed.”  
  
“What’s going on?” Sam asked quickly. The skin around his throat was chaffed and red. “Dean? Are you okay?”  
  
“I’m here Sammy.” Dean found his voice to be rough like jagged rocks. He could hardly make sense of what he’d done. “Cas? What are you looking at? Why can’t Sam open his eyes? The demons are dead.”  
  
Castiel nodded his head and Dean frowned when something caught the corner of his eye. He glanced and his mouth dropped open in shock at what he saw; at the practically enormous wing hovering over his shoulder. Sure enough there was a second when he whipped his head to the left. They were hard to describe really but immensely stunning, stretching out over the area and so golden it was as if they’d swallowed the sun. He’d expected them to be heavy but found them strangely…normal.  
  
And it was then Dean realized what had happened. That he’d sheltered Cas and Sam from the blast within the safety of wings.  
  
 _Holy shit!_  
  
Castiel touched his cheek lightly to bring him back to the present. “Dean, you need to shield them or you risk burning your brother’s eyes out.”  
  
Well that would suck. “Ho—how do I do that? I don’t even remember whipping ‘em out!” As if they understood they were being talked about, the wings flapped happily. “Jesus.”  
  
Castiel smiled sheepishly. “Just relax and focus on tucking them away. Hiding them into the space within spaces. You can do this.”  
  
Dean huffed but did as he was told. He pictured his wings folding against his back and popping out of existence like a foam bubble from a child’s wand. The last thing he wanted to do was hurt Sam after going to the trouble of saving him so he was thankful when a weight settled onto his shoulders and Castiel removed his hand. He didn’t know if he would ever get used to this.  
  
Sam’s bitch face was out in full force however. “What happened? What—” He glanced around slowly at the mountain of destruction. “Holy hell Dean did you do this?!  
  
Dean sat back on his heels. “I guess I did.” His hands were still shaking from all of the adrenaline.  
  
Honestly he felt like he’d just run a marathon for a week straight without any sleep. He wasn’t tired but he was jacked—hyped—to the point where he figured if he tried he could actually fly. Just shoot up into the sky until he was hovering above the Earth and looking down at everything. His bruises were healed but he still had no real idea how he’d done anything, he’d just known to either react or watch his family die. And while it was beyond nerve wracking he could say for the first time ever he was thankful to Michael for giving up his grace. Without it they’d all probably be dead right about now. Instead Meg was gone from their lives forever, never to show up and fuck with them again.  
  
She’d been so cold in his hand; something he hadn’t felt since Hell.  
  
Good riddance.  
  
Shivering, he stood and pulled Sammy to his feet then did the same with Castiel. He was lamenting the loss of his car because surely it hadn’t survived the blast, but was pleasantly surprised to see it untouched. Save for the cracked rear windshield which was an easy fix. He had  _actually_  shielded his freaken car too.  
  
Well at least that meant he had been totally in control. Michael wouldn’t have given a damn about his baby.  
  
“We should go.” Sam said limping towards the passenger side. “Before we’re branded as fire starters or domestic terrorists. Again.”  
  
Leaving? Now  _there_  was a good idea.  


  
~*~

The motel wasn’t as bad as some of the places Dean and Sam stayed Castiel realized as he closed himself in the bathroom. It was clean at least and he gathered the twin beds were soft if the way the boys had sunk onto them were any indication. In truth he was tired; a feeling he didn’t like one bit. He was used to limbs of stone and a spine of steel that never bowed unless told to do so by the power of his will. Now he was experiencing things he couldn’t control, sensations that were not even remotely pleasant. Such as the throbbing pain in his side.

He knew his ribs were broken and he also knew why they weren’t healing but he hadn’t said anything to Sam or Dean. He’d simply strolled into the bathroom and shut the door under the pretense of washing the blood from his face. Afterwards he’d just stood there gripping the sink, trying to force his body back together how it was supposed to be. It wasn’t listening though. It was taunting him, giving him just enough grace and power not to be affected by Dean’s wings but not enough to heal himself.

_Dean’s wings._

If beauty had form it would be those wings. He could have wept at their magnificence, at the sheer radiance shining from them. To think that they had been used to protect him, well, it made him speechless. Idly he had figured they would be white or perhaps an elegant forest green like Michael’s but no, not for Dean Winchester. Not for the Righteous Man.

Castiel inhaled shakily and cursed himself for letting  _demons_  get the jump on him. He was a soldier. He’d fought fallen angels and things the world couldn’t even imagine, yet something so vile had managed to _break_  him. And soon he would be totally useless—if his body kept going the way it was going. He would become a burden to those he cared about and ultimately get them hurt. He should just leave before any of that happened. Before Dean could see him struck so low. Before Dean got the chance to send him away.

A knock sounded on the door and it opened without his given consent. Dean slipped inside and closed it, turning to look at him with a speculative gaze. “You okay?”

He sighed; he could quickly grow weary of that question. “I am fine. I just wished to wash my face.”

Dean nodded. “Uh-huh ‘cause I could have sworn that asshole broke your ribs. Lemme see.” He reached forward and pulled up Castiel’s shirt, hissing at the blotchy purpling bruises all up and down his side. “Shit, Cas. You’re not fine! Why the hell would you lie about this?”

Angry, Castiel shoved him away back towards the door. “I can take care of myself. I am not a child that you need to coddle. Whatever state I might be in now I am  _still_  an angel of the Lord and the last thing I will ever need from you is your pity. ”

Dean’s green eyes grew soft. “I’m not pitying you, man. I’m worried. Hey look I know you can take care of yourself but you still should have told me that you were  _hurt_. It’s important.”

“I’m not weak, Dean.”

“I didn’t say you were.”

“You assume I am because I am not at full power.”

“Bullshit. I saw you take out those two demons. I know you’re not weak…not by a long shot.”

Castiel sighed and stared at the floor. “I will be fine. I should heal…eventually.”

Wetting his lips, Dean crowded into his space again so that he couldn’t escape. “Cas… You’re one of us now so me worrying automatically extends to you—not that it didn’t before ‘cause it did. But ya know Sam is eight feet tall and I still worry about him pretty much all the time.” Very gently he placed his hand on Castiel’s waist, smoothing it up slowly to his ribs. “Comes with the territory. Doesn’t mean I don’t know how badass you are. It just means—it means I want those close to me to always be okay. I’m selfish like that.”

Dean’s palm was burning hot against his soft skin but it felt wonderful. Steadying. Castiel knew it was coming but he still gasped when his bones sealed back together, shuddering at the wave of strong grace that mended them. He found himself trapped between Dean and the sink with Dean’s fingers tenderly kneading his flesh. They had been this close before—quite a few times actually—but it was different for some reason. The air was crackling with electricity and Dean’s eyes were dark, the iris drowning in some overwhelming emotion. 

_He is getting better at using his gifts_ , Castiel thought vaguely. What he said was, “Dean.”

It sounded normal to his ears but he could tell his voice was huskier, that there was a question in the word. Dean clearly understood because he stepped closer until they were pressed together more intimate than they had ever been, Dean’s thumb sweeping back and forth, making him tremble. His stomach muscles tightened and his cheeks flushed; his fingers gripping the material of Dean’s shirt without his consent. And then Dean was leaning down and their lips were so close they could touch. So close that he could feel Dean’s warmth breath puffing out.

He was going to be  _kissed_.  _Dean_  was going to kiss him and the very thought made his brain short circuit. He almost feared what the act itself would do but suddenly he yearned for it. Suddenly he wanted it more than he had ever wanted anything in his very long life. He wanted Dean’s mouth and Dean’s breath and Dean’s skin against his own. Dean, Dean  _always_  Dean.

The door opened without warning a mere second later with Sam looming in the doorway. “Hey Dean where is your—oops! Heh I um—uh—sorry.” Quickly he slammed the door shut but not before Castiel saw his big smile.

Dean made a rough sound in his throat. “Cock blocking moose.” Sighing, he turned his attention back to Castiel and cracked a small smile before kissing his forehead. “Come out when you’re ready.”

Castiel jerked his head in a nod and watched him leave, the sounds of him yelling at Sam without any real venom following thereafter. He slumped against the counter and felt himself over; everything was back in order except for the wild beating of his heart. It seemed quite silly to be millions of years old only to find himself flustered by a human, but he’d long since realized that Dean was no simple human. Dean was  _emotion_  personified; a swirling mass of chaos and temptation that he’d glimpsed even down within the pit. Never imagining how it would eventually come to change him.

Other angels would probably say that Dean had infected him like a disease but he did not see it that way. Dean had  _cured_  him. Had filled him with the hope that there was something more than obedience and the cold indifferent of God’s love.

Castiel could remember yelling at Dean that he had lost everything for nothing but they were now words he knew to be heavily untrue. He may have lost his Heavenly family but he’d gained perhaps an even greater one. One that wouldn’t kill him or cast him out for making a mistake; one that supported him and allowed him to be whoever he wished to be.

Life on this small blue planet wouldn’t be easy but he still considered it an even trade. But that didn’t mean he was going to lose the last vestiges of his grace without a fight. He would cling to the remnants until his knuckles were white from holding on so strongly. Just giving up was not an option, especially with what was to come.

Licking his lips, he glanced at his reflection in the mirror briefly before exiting the bathroom. He was ready.


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter Six  
  
There was a stark inevitability about the world going to shit as far as Dean was concerned. No matter what they tried to do, short of a miracle the virus would keep spreading until there was no one else left for it to infect. And then the real fun would start when all of the hapless survivors were left to fend for themselves. It just seemed to make sense to have some kinda plan in order to curtail the suffering as much as they could. Sure it didn’t fall to the Winchesters, an old drunk and a semi-fallen angel to continue to keep the world safe but really, who else was gonna do it? The other angels didn’t give a shit and even if a few demons wanted to keep their play toys around, they couldn’t torture out the virus or whatever. So it was time to get proactive and be practical.  
  
First they would need a base of operations out of the way yet in a relatively safe area. Dean had never questioned  _why_  Camp Chitaqua was safe since he’d been too preoccupied with the mountain load of shit being flung his way, but he still remembered how it was a functioning community of twitchy apocalypse survivors. Everyone apparently had a job to do and did it without reservation, which he could respect. He wasn’t sure how many people had lived there; hell he wasn’t even sure if  _any_  of that had been real to be honest. Zachariah was a dickhead that liked to fuck with him, so it was entirely possible he’d come up with some elaborate fake future just to get him to say yes. Still a safe haven was just common sense.  
  
So that is why a day later he and Castiel were going to check out the camp just to see what was up. They’d all agreed there was no harm even if it turned out to be a big bust. Staying at Bobby’s long term probably wouldn’t work because he was close to a populated area and besides a meager fence there wasn’t exactly any way to keep the scrap yard safe. Besides they needed room for as many people as they could afford to save along the way. Sam had volunteered to stay behind and help Bobby stock up on supplies with a shit eating little grin, seeing Dean and Castiel off a smirky  _have fun_.  
  
Apparently he was just  _dying_  for Nair in his shampoo again.  
  
But ya know it was nice to see him joking around even if it were at Dean’s expense. The whole Lucifer deal and learning he was a vessel for the ultimate evil had drained a lot of what made Sam,  _Sam_. That and sucking down Ruby’s blood like it was going out of style. With the devil being dead his brother could now come to terms with the things he’d done while trying to save the world. He could seek forgiveness from the people he’d wrong and for himself. Well he  _could_  do those things if he stopped being a nosy pain in the ass for five seconds.  
  
Really. Meg was a burnt stain in a parking lot because  _he’d_  angel’d out on her stupid ass and all Sam wanted to talk about was what nearly happened between him and Cas in the hotel bathroom.  
  
To be honest Dean wasn’t exactly sure what had happened between himself and Cas in the hotel bathroom. He just knew Castiel was in pain and trying to be strong, like always, by not saying anything. Dude was a stubborn little ass sometimes but he sort of liked that about him. Anyway the incident—as his brain was calling it—was kinda a surprise but maybe in the grand scheme of things it wasn’t. Either way Sam didn’t have to be a jerk about it even though his teasing obviously came from a place of love.  
  
“You know we used to pass by this place all the time on the way Bobby’s.” Dean said conversationally as they passed the  _Welcome to Camp Chitaqua_  sign. “And Sam would press his face against the glass and ask when he could go to camp. I never got the appeal myself. But one year dad actually let Sam go while he went off to hunt something or other. I stayed with Bobby.”  
  
Castiel picked at his new jacket. Surprisingly they hadn’t been able to find him a trench coat like the one he’d lost, but the black knee-length pea coat looked great on him. “Did Sam enjoy his time at camp?”  
  
Dean grinned. “Oh yeah. Nerd came home with tons of stories and all this crap he’d made. I guess he had liked the whole being a normal kid thing for a while. No training just swimming and weaving lanyards or whatever the fuck they did there.” He maneuvered the car down the long rocky road. “It closed years ago though. I still wonder if everything Zach showed me was real or shit he pulled from my mind.”  
  
Castiel clasped his hands together in his lap. “I would say a collection of both. Zachariah would have employed any means necessary to get you to say yes. Showing you a bleak version of what the future could be was actually a productive use of his talents. He just underestimated you and your will to do whatever you wished.”  
  
Damn right he did. “Yeah but as we can see some of that crap  _is_  happening. I’m just glad other parts are different. That we’re all alive and…in control of our own bodies.” And that his best friend wasn’t sleeping around and popping pills because he felt useless. “Things are gonna be shit puddles soon but I know from experience they could be so much worse.”  
  
The car came to a stop out in front of a tall rusted fence, the gate held together by a thick chain and lock. Castiel waved a hand and the lock clicked open, sending the chain crumpling to the ground in a metal heap. Dean smiled at him and slowly inched the car forward, pushing open the two swinging sides of the gate. The last thing he wanted to do was hurt his baby after giving her a nice new back windshield.  
  
They were surrounded by tall trees and thick bushes on either side; the simple road winding deeper into the woods. It didn’t take long for them to cross the plank bridge and come to the main grounds area where all of the cabins stretched off into the distance. Most of the things he remembered seeing from his vision weren’t there. No gas cans or patch works tents. No barrels with paper targets or miscellaneous car parts strewn about. Everything was clean if overgrown and the generators still appeared to be in place. Hopefully all they needed was fuel to make them work.  
  
Parking in the middle of it all, Dean cut the engine and slipped out. He glanced around almost expecting another version of himself to come stomping out of a cabin to point a gun at him. “What cha think, Cas? Good enough place to set up shop?”  
  
The angel nodded. “With the right protective measures taken, yes.”  
  
Dean snorted and made his way up onto the porch of a cabin, kicking at a small tin bucket. He looked up at a weather beaten fishing pole and smiled to himself at the thought of getting to fish again after so many years. Maybe. “Okay so we get this place fixed up and working. Get Bobby to tell his hunter network about it so they can set up their own camps. In the meantime we kill as many Crote bastards as we can.”  
  
Castiel opened his mouth to reply when a rustle in the bushes made them both look over. Dean yanked his gun from the band of his jeans, his finger on the trigger as a frumpy figure stumbled out of the dense brush.  
  
Dean blinked. “Chuck?”  
  
Chuck smiled nervously and pulled leaves from his shirt. “Dean, hey! Great you’re here. When I heard someone coming I hid because, well you can never be too careful nowadays. Hello Castiel. Glad to see you’re not still um, exploded.”  
  
 _You’ve got to be kidding me._  “Chuck what the hell are you doing here?”  
  
Chuck cleared his throat. “Well you see it’s like this. I—I might have had a vision about what’s happening and this place. It’s getting crazy out there. The Croatoan virus? Oh yeah I saw that. It was like being in a George Romero movie.”  
  
“You are still receiving prophetic dreams?” Castiel inquired. “I thought they would have stopped once the Apocalypse was averted.”  
  
“I don’t dream about everything you guys do. In fact I—I hadn’t had a dream about you guys in a while until—until Dean said yes and drove an angel sword through Zachariah’s head.” He scratched at his thick beard. “Then they sorta started coming again. Niveus and stuff. I knew you’d be here.”  
  
Dean stared at him. “Okay so why are you here? Why aren’t you at home ordering hookers and getting plastered?”  
  
Chuck fidgeted incessantly like he couldn’t keep still. “Uh hello? The world is gonna be overrun by blood thirsty zombies. If I want even a rat’s chance in Hell of surviving I need to be wherever you guys are. Packing all my crap up into my car and coming here really wasn’t a hard decision.” He shrugged. “Not like you’re gonna turn me away. Michael’s supposed to be for the people.” Dean’s face went blank and Chuck swallowed hard. “Too soon?”  
  
“He has a point, Dean.” Castiel replied levelly. “As an Archangel it is your duty to protect him. I doubt Raphael will care to now that he is probably in charge of Heaven.”  
  
Groaning, Dean stalked down to where they both were. “Fine. I guess it won’t be the worst thing in the world having you here. You can be in charge of supplies. Making sure we have a list of what we need and when we’re close to running out.”  
  
Chuck looked discouraged. “Me? I—I—I dunno man that sounds like an important job.”  
  
Dean smirked. “Get a clipboard then.” Patting him harder on the shoulder than was necessary, he turned to check out a few of the other cabins. They were small but oddly livable. “And call Sam. Tell him you just joined Team Chitaqua.”  
  
Chuck made a panicky sound but rushed to obey. “Oh geeze…”  
  
The grass was almost up to his knees and the smell of wild onions was powerful, but Dean didn’t really mind. In time it would all be gone or flattened to make way for vehicles and ammunition cases. It was weird that things had come to this—that he’d still ended up  _here_  after all. However Lucifer had been wrong which was what he was gonna focus on. So much was different, and as horrible as it sounded as long as he had his family he could deal with the other shit.  
  
After all that was usually how he lived his life anyway. At least now he could heal people and set gas stations on fire.  
  
Finding himself in front of a familiar little lodge, he licked his lips and strolled onto the porch. He hadn’t paid much attention in the future or vision or whatever it was, but now he could tell that this building was bigger than the others. Bigger than the one his future self had left him handcuffed in. There weren’t colored beads instead of a door and the smell of incense didn’t him in the face, but he knew it was the same one future Castiel had called home. He knew the inside was big enough for a bed as well as other little bits of furniture. Maybe the bed was already in here.  
  
“I think I’ll take this one.” He rapped his knuckles against the sturdy wood. “Callin’ dibs before Sam tries to get his gigantic paws on it.”  
  
“How will you stop him from acquiring it after he gets here?” Castiel asked his voice laced with amusement.  
  
“Hey, finders keepers.” Dean murmured. “I—” A strange feeling in his gut caused him to trail off and he frowned, hand on his gun. It was almost like his spidey sense but stronger; like it was twisting from the depths of his soul. “Cas…”  
  
Castiel whipped around as if he just  _knew_ , his big blue eyes widening at the sight of an impeccably dressed man and woman standing behind him. “Inias? Rachel?”  
  
The angel—because naturally he had to be an angel—dubbed Inias grinned widely. “It’s so nice to see you again Castiel.” He was sort of floppy haired and scruffy, but he wasn’t attacking so that had to count for something.  
  
“What are you doing here?” Castiel questioned, giving them both a tiny smile. He looked happy to see them.  
  
“Looking for Dean, actually.” Inias replied, blue eyes searching Dean out. “We’re here to offer our services to him.”  
  
“What?” Dean’s brows narrowed. “What kinda  _services_?”  
  
“Whatever you need.” He said easily. “Rachel and I are simply happy to be in your presence. We searched for you but you are still hidden from angels, so then we searched for Castiel because we knew where you were, he would be.”  
  
Confused, Dean folded his arms over his chest. Why would angels give a crap about him now that Lucifer was toast? “You wanna be near  _me_? Since when? Most of you asshats couldn’t stand me.”  
  
“It is Michael’s grace.” Castiel responded. “He had many followers when he was in Heaven, more so than any other angel. They can feel him within you.”  
  
“Can you? Doesn’t that freak you out?”  
  
“I can but having known you, it’s different. Comforting.”  
  
 _Oy._  “Okay so let me get this straight. You two are here because you miss your big brother or something? And Raphael just let you waltz out of Heaven? No questions asked? I was under the impression he’d turn you to stone for not siding with him.”  
  
Inias was still grinning. “As Prince of Heaven your power eclipses Raphael’s…even if you haven’t learned to harness it all yet. He is not happy with our decision and wishes our allegiance was to him, but I honestly think there is a part of him that is afraid of what you could possibly do if challenged. More angels will come—of this I am certain.”  
  
The thought of being surrounded by angels giving him moon eyes made Dean shift uncomfortably. He wasn’t Michael in any shape or form so they would be ultimately disappointed in their decision to follow him. Though with the alternative being Raphael he could understand why they’d jumped ship. Guy was a douche. “Well I mean…” He scrubbed a hand over his dirty blonde hair. “If you wanna hang out I guess that’s okay if you don’t plan to stab anyone. Do you know what’s going on down here though? And hey, what about your vessels? I’m sure they had lives and shit before you decided to pop down for a vacation.”  
  
Inias gazed at him serenely. “We are aware that the Croatoan virus has been unleashed on Earth but fear not, angels are immune. Our vessels have been totally debriefed on the matters at hand and most feel it is better to be inhabited by an angel—and put to sleep—than to accidentally be infected one day. We are taking good care of our hosts, you have my word.”  
  
 _Well can’t say that I blame them. Checking out has to be the better option for some._  Suddenly Dean had an excellent yet kinda outrageous idea. “Huh. I know you can’t tell who is infected and what not, but I could use your help now that I think about it. We need to get this place secured before the shit really hits the fan. Having angel bodyguards would probably make people feel better too.” Not to mention they could pop out and find survivors and burn those already showing symptoms.   
  
“That sounds acceptable.” Rachel was good looking but Dean knew uptight when he saw it. “Castiel, come. You must tell us about your confrontation with Lucifer and your miraculous resurrection.”  
  
Dean watched as Castiel drifted off a little ways with them, smiling brightly when Inias touched his shoulder. It was clear they were important to each other and it was nice to see angels that weren’t raging dicks. Ones that didn’t want to kill Castiel simply because he’d disobeyed what was a stupid order in the first place. Though he wondered if he didn’t have Michael’s grace would they be so friendly. Seriously. They called themselves family but had no issues butchering one another like it was going out of style. Still he realized Castiel missed them in his own way so it was good more would be coming to…do whatever.  
  
 _I guess anyway. Jury is kinda still out._  
  
He made a mental note to ask Cas about it later.  
  
In any case Inias seemed like a good guy. He was scruffy but sort of unassuming and there was genuine affection in his face for Castiel. They liked each other—got along. Had probably been getting along for millions or years. Before Dean was even a fleeting thought in someone’s mind. They’d probably fought together in kick ass battles in their true forms and all that shit.  
  
Scowling, he told himself that he wasn’t jealous of Scrappy Do and the history he had with Cas. That Cas wasn’t gonna run off and be angel buddies with him. Though maybe he should. Dean wasn’t blind; he could tell Castiel was having a hard time what with his grace being screwy and all. Having some of his family around him might perk his wings up. Dean wanted Cas with him especially now that things were about to get hot but if he wanted to go off with Inias and Rachel, he’d let him without hesitation of course. And yeah he’d sulk, be depressed and probably drive Sam up a wall for a while with attitude but it would be the right thing to do by Cas.  
  
He got that it wasn’t possible all the time but when it was, he wanted to do right by Castiel. Even if that meant letting him go.  
  
~*~  
  
After Anna ripped out her own grace and fell from the Heavens, Castiel was put in charge of their garrison. He was told that it was because he was such a good, obedient soldier but looking back he honestly wondered if that were the case. While he’d never exactly disobeyed before Dean coaxed him into it, he’d had doubts about some of the harsher things he’d been commanded to do. Especially when it came to raining down fire and brimstone to wipe out entire villages. In the end however he’d been the dutiful son and became Captain with Inias and Rachel ready to follow his every order.  
  
Having to kill other angels to help the Winchesters was something that weighed heavily on his mind even now. He understood it was necessary—that it was either him or them—but he was still taking the life of beings he’d known since creation. Brothers and sisters that had once embraced him and sung with him and spoke of the joys of being loved by God with him. At the time Castiel did not understand the magnitude by which he was severing ties with the only life he’d known. It wasn’t something he could grasp until Raphael descended upon him in Chuck’s home without a second thought.  
  
Following his resurrection it was easier to engage his brothers in life or death combat because he focused on the mission and the consequences of failing outweighed his own personal sacrifices.   
  
Inias and Rachel being here with him now though filled an empty chamber in his heart he’d kept hidden from his human friends.   
  
“When we heard about your rebellion we were shocked and quite saddened.” Inias sighed. “We wept for you, worried that you would end up like our poor fallen brother Lucifer. Hester was quick to blame Dean. Even now she says the moment you touched his soul in the pit, you were lost. I never really believed that.”  
  
Castiel hummed; he could see Hester saying as much and more. “Fighting with the Winchesters was the right thing to do. Paradise shouldn’t have to cost so many innocent lives.”  
  
Inias inhaled the crisp cool air. “I suppose I agree. Everything around us is Father’s creation, something he wished for us to love and nurture. Somewhere along the way Zachariah and the others forgot this.”  
  
Rachel kicked at a round stone. “They were overtaken by their own hubris and selfish desires.” Pause. “I thought you a traitor Castiel, until God brought you back from the dead. It makes sense for him to do so if you were in fact right all along. Still… _Dean Winchester_?”  
  
Castiel smiled, his eyes darting to where Dean was mostly pretending that he wasn’t watching them. “Dean is special.”  
  
“He’s crass, disruptive and willful to the point of disobeying direct orders from Heaven. His only redeeming quality is that he is Michael’s vessel.”  
  
“You are mistaken, sister. Dean has many wonderful qualities that have nothing to do with his supposed destiny. He is loyal and brave and intelligent, and even though he doesn’t realize his own worth, he still manages to inspire others to do amazing things.”  
  
“High praise for something thought to be once insignificant.”  
  
“Dean has never been insignificant.”  
  
“Hm. Perhaps we shall come to see what it is  _you_  see in him, Castiel.”  
  
While there were undoubtedly bad habits that Dean could ultimately end up teaching Inias, Rachel and any other angels that came to be near him, Castiel knew the good would always outweigh the bad. Since angels had no use for drinking or eating they would not find themselves intoxicated or suffering from a “pie coma”, as Sam often teased Dean he would lapse into one day. However following Dean would teach them the value of human life, something they only appeared to grasp on a rudimentary level. He couldn’t save everyone but he tried…and that  _mattered._  
  
 _They will learn it is okay sometimes to question authority. That life—such as it is—is precious and that hardships do not dull but serve as a reminder of what one is fighting for._  
  
Of course Dean would also benefit from having full powered angels with him. Ones that didn’t become drained if they expelled too much energy. He would be lying though if he said they didn’t make him question his place; what if he became obsolete to Dean now? He supposed it was a burden he’d eventually bear if he had to.  
  
Inias clasped his hand and broke him out of his melancholy thoughts. “Castiel, did you really face Lucifer? Was he so different from the brother we once knew?”  
  
Castiel nodded. “Quite. The Morning Star was filled with rage and a longing for vengeance. He wanted to destroy everything our Father loved. He cared not about demon or human or angel. When he realized that he couldn’t convert me to his cause, he left me trapped in a ring of holy fire to deal with later. I am certain he would have killed me upon his return had I not escaped.”  
  
Inias shook his head slowly. “So much pain and torment, and for what? God might be absent but I still believe he loves us. I wish Lucifer could have retained that belief as well.”  
  
Rachel put her hands on her slim hips. “We hear Gabriel ended him but he has not returned to Heaven. Our family is in total disarray and here we are wishing to be near a human because he carries our brother’s grace. I am still not sure what to make of everything.”  
  
Smiling, Castiel squeezed her arm affectionately. “It will be all right. As the humans would say, look on the bright side of things. They could be worse.”  
  
“Dean is such an interesting character.” Inias said, apropos of nothing. “He doesn’t trust us.”  
  
“He hasn’t had too many positive experiences with angels.” Castiel explained lightly. “He has learned to be wary of them because of Zachariah.”  
  
Inias shoulders twitched in delight. “He still isn’t convinced that Rachel and I are not here to drag you back to Heaven for some form of punishment. He’s wondering…if he could kill us before we do. If that were the case.” A beat. “He is very fond of you, Castiel. His concern for your safety is touching and has nothing to do with the grace he now carries.”  
  
Although pleased with his brother’s words, Castiel replied, “You shouldn’t read his mind—he doesn’t like it.”  
  
“I will try to remember that.”  
  
Their conversation continued for a few more moments about Heaven and protecting the planet before Inias and Rachel disappeared with a flutter of wings, off to tell more angels that Dean seemed receptive to the idea of them following him. Chuck shuffled over ten minutes later to relate that he was going to go home and pack up what he could now that he knew for a fact the camp would be their main base of operations. Castiel decided he would ask Rachel to watch over him the next time they spoke. She would enjoy having a Heavenly job since she didn’t think much of saving people or hunting things.  
  
“So…” Dean drawled when it was just the two of them again. “Guess I was wrong about angels. They’re not all dicks.”  
  
Castiel smirked. “No. Rachel can be…difficult but Inias has always had a very tranquil temperament. They will serve you well.”   
  
Dean’s brows narrowed slightly. “So you sayin’ I can trust ‘em? ‘Cause I gotta tell you Cas, this whole leading the angels thing really freaks me out. The only reason I’m even considering it is because beggars can’t be choosers when the planet is about to become a giant ball of crazy.”  
  
The angel slumped against the Impala. “They will listen to you, Dean. Free will is not something angels understand. As you well remember it took me until the eleventh hour to grasp exactly what you were saying. But they recognize authority and respect it. It would be wise to use their abilities to help with your cause.” Especially since he wasn’t sure how long he would be of use.  
  
Sighing tiredly, Dean made a noncommittal sound low in his throat. “Yeah.” He shoved his hands into his pockets. “We should be heading back to Bobby’s. See what headway he and Sam have made.”  
  
Castiel nodded. It struck him more lately how much Dean pushed himself, through exhaustion and hunger. Almost as if he considered sleep and food a reward for a job well done; things he wouldn’t indulge in until he had the desired results. “You…do not have to be fatigued anymore if you do not wish to be. Michael’s grace would take all of that away.”  
  
“I know.” Dean’s voice was calm but calculating. “But I think I should save that for when it’s really needed. I don’t mind feeling a little rundown—used to it actually.” Ducking his head, he motioned to Castiel. “How are you feeling by the way?”  
  
“I am completely healed.”   
  
“But how are you  _feeling_?”  
  
“I feel…content. Is that odd?”  
  
“Not really. I just—I wanna make sure you’re dealing with everything. You  _were_  just in a coma recently. If you start feeling weird you can tell me.”  
  
Although Castiel understood what Dean was saying he wasn’t sure he would be able to be that honest, not yet anyway. He was still processing the changes his choice to rebel were throwing at him. They were even more jarring now that Inias and Rachel in all their glory were going to be around more. “I...”  
  
Expression softening, Dean mirrored his stance by the car. “You uh, you wanna try that grace sharing thing again? I dunno how I did it but as long as I don’t blow you up I’m willing to give it a go.”  
  
Yes he wanted to do it again. He wasn’t experiencing any lapses like before since technically he had not exactly done anything—he wasn’t sure killing two demons counted—but the mere thought of being awake to feel that type of power coursing through his body made him shiver in anticipation. Before Dean he’d never been fortunate enough to grace share and he’d always assumed it was just something that wasn’t meant for him. But now that it was a possibility, now that it had been brought up he longed for it.  
  
Yet Dean could be as skittish as a wild horse when it came to things of an emotional nature and he didn’t want to make him uncomfortable. “You don’t have to. My strength has not waned so quickly.”  
  
Rolling his big green eyes, Dean pushed off the car and pulled him up so that he stood straight. “I know that. And this isn’t like me thinking you deflate that fast or whatever. I just—I wanna do this for you. But if you don’t wanna that’s cool too.”  
  
“I want to.” Castiel said softly. “But it’s an...intense occurrence. Last time you may not have realized it because you were also trying to heal me.”  
  
“No I remember it making my teeth rattle.” The hunter rolled his shoulders. “Now that we know Michael won’t be popping up though I’m good. So quit worrying and let’s do this.”  
  
“Yes Dean.” Castiel averted his gaze but he was smiling.  
  
Not sure where to put his hands, Dean settled for clutching at Castiel’s biceps. He gave them a squeeze, his brow furrowed in concentration. His eyes didn’t shy away from Castiel’s—not that they ever did—and the angel could see white clandestine light slowly swirling to the forefront, completely enveloping the green. Dean’s hands grew hotter and his face became flushed; his tongue sneaking out slowly to wet his lips. He didn’t really look like he was exerting himself but obviously the energy building up inside of him was new and exhilarating. And perhaps just a little bit nerve racking as well.  
  
Michael’s grace rose to the surface like a submarine breaking water and Castiel felt his own grace latch onto it greedily, so much so that it swayed his body forward into Dean’s space. In any other situation it could almost be attributed to a parasite feeding off of a host but there was no malice involved in any of their actions. Dean was helping him and Castiel was grateful.  
  
He could only vaguely remember the feeling of being semi drunk; a tingly sensation that had started in the tips of his toes and reached his knees by the time they ran out of alcohol at Bobby’s on the night they assumed would be their last on Earth. However having Dean pouring grace into his limbs made his head swim. A comforting warmth swelled in his chest that made him feel safer than he had in a long time, perhaps before he’d taken a vessel and learned that there were things that could hurt him. His lashes fluttered and he exhaled softly, pressing his face against the soft hollow of Dean’s throat. Something smooth brushed his cheek before pulling him closer and he gasped as bright gold filled his hazy vision.  
  
 _Dean’s wings_.  
  
“Dean…” He breathed, grabbing at the feathers. They were like hot silk between his shaking fingers.  
  
“Sorry. They just…popped out.” Dean chuckled, a tad embarrassed. “Are you okay?”  
  
“Nggh.” Castiel mumbled unintelligently.  
  
Dean snorted and the transfer ebbed away. “I’ll take that as a yes. Huh I’m not even tired—I thought I would be.” He raked his hand down Castiel’s back. “You know you’ve healed me plenty of times in the past but I think this was the first time I ever actually  _felt_  your grace. Well felt it now—pleasantly—and not a week later when I’m guzzling down Milk of Magnesia.”  
  
Castiel smiled lazily. “Dean. This is my first hug.”  
  
“The Cupid hugged you.”  
  
“He hugs everyone whether you want him to or not.”  
  
“Heh well I’m sure you’ll have more hugs in your life.”  
  
“Am I making you uncomfortable?”  
  
“Not really. You’re coming off kinda stoned though.”  
  
“I feel wonderful.”  
  
Snickering, Dean managed to pull his wings away and settle them behind his back. “That’s what matters then…” Taking a step back, he ducked so that he could look his friend in the eyes. “You ready to head back to Bobby’s? I wanna tell Sam about the other angels. Maybe start bringing shit up here.”  
  
Castiel blinked slowly as his body calmed and absorbed the energy he’d been given. His wings felt stronger;  _he_  felt stronger and more ready for battle than ever. He used to wonder sometimes what it was like to be an Archangel but never voiced such because he knew no one would understand. Now he had the Prince of Heaven’s power pumping through his veins. Him. The outcast Castiel that once every other angel wanted dead, either by order or principle alone. He’d made peace with the fact that he would probably die because he disobeyed his superiors. Never could he have imagined that he would be…rewarded.  
  
“Thank you.” Giving in to the impulsion, he leaned forward and pressed his lips to Dean’s. It was a chaste kiss, something from the back of Jimmy’s memory that filtered into Castiel’s brain. Just a light touch of lips on lips before a tiny voice told him perhaps this wasn’t the best course of action. “Oh!” He pulled away quickly. “Dean I—I apologize. I was not thinking clearly. As I said the affects of grace sharing can be overwhelming.” What if this destroyed their friendship? “Should I leave now?”  
  
“Uh.” Dean looked like a deer caught in headlights. “No. No you’re…fine. It’s um, fine.” He cracked a small smile. “Really.  _It’s all fine._ ”  
  
As usual, Castiel had no problems believing him.


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter Seven  
  
For the first week they attempted to quell Croatoan outbreaks where they could, killing those that manifested symptoms while saving those that—after being contained for three hours—continued to be normal. It was a slow process but they managed to keep a few people alive and to Castiel that was a victory. Dean, Sam and Bobby grew ever more frustrated that they couldn’t do  _more_  however. Especially Dean whose powers continued to manifest and grow stronger, sometimes without his control. He had slammed his fist down onto the metal examination table of a doctor that had refused to listen when they’d explained about the contagion being in the blood, and broke it completely in half. Needless to say the doctor had no trouble listening after that.  
  
The second week Bobby told Jodi Mills what was going on, enlisting her help in knowing what the police and other government officials were planning to do. As a Sheriff they had to keep her in the loop so that she could best direct the people she was sworn to protect. So far there were just murmurings; quiet whispers of trouble  _elsewhere_  that would be contained “any day now” so there was no need to worry.  
  
By the third week? Well anyone that cared to pay close enough attention could tell that something was very wrong and only getting worse by the minute. Some towns were experiencing rioting in the streets; people with red eyes and rage filled minds beating and destroying whatever and  _whoever_  happened to be in their path. And they appeared to multiply quite quickly. They could not be reasoned with or contained, only eradicated. It didn’t take long for the Army and National Guard to get involved or for quarantine areas to be set up. Roadblocks too. Several states put curfews into affect while others went into a state of emergency. The President was urging people not to panic—that they had everything under control—but it was a losing battle.  
  
People  _were_  panicking. The virus spread quickly in large cities and there had already been calls for evacuations, for all the good it would do. Castiel reasoned several of the people evacuating were probably already infected and off to infect others. He could understand perfectly how in a few months time there would be nothing left, nothing of substance anyway. Yet he couldn’t help but wonder what the other supernatural creatures would do. For example he wasn’t sure but he doubted a demon would want to possess someone with the virus coursing through their veins. Crowley had been especially against it getting out so…  
  
A news reporter on the television droned on about another rash of riots in some suburban town and Dean grunted; clicking the set off with more force than was necessary. “This is shit. I hate just sitting here not being able to do anything.”  
  
Sam ran a hand through his dark hair. “Me too. But going out killing those things only bought us more time. Not to mention if we start doing that again we might be shot on sight thanks to the Army.”  
  
Dean scowled. “Nah we should stay  _far_  away from any soldiers. And not just because we’re both technically supposed to be dead in the eyes of the law. They’ll take all our guns.”  
  
Sam chuckled slightly. “We don’t want that.” He stuck his long legs out in front of him, his toes wiggling in his gray socks. “So we’ll keep a low profile.”  
  
His brother huffed. “Yeah until those assholes are right outside our door.” Tossing the remote onto the table, he sat down onto the couch beside Castiel. “It’s been three weeks and things are just getting worse. We need to go to Chitaqua. We’ve got a good haul of supplies and the other hunters know the deal. Whaddaya say?”  
  
Bobby shrugged from his place behind his desk. “Not the worst suggestion I’ve heard. Only a matter of time before we’re too boxed in to go anywhere.”  
  
Dean scratched at his scruffy cheek. “So we’ll head out. Guess we should give Chuck a call and let him know we’re going up there…if he doesn’t know already. Jodi too.”  
  
Bobby took off his hat and itched at his head before nodding. “I’ll get to it then.”  
  
Castiel watched as Bobby hobbled over to his wall of phones, digging an address book out of his drawer. Sam and Dean had fallen into a light conversation about the future and he listened idly, wishing he could do more to help. Though at this point the only one who could save the world was God and no one expected him to show up. He wondered—not for the first time—if perhaps Raphael had been right all those months ago. Perhaps God  _was_  dead. As horrible as it was he almost preferred it to the alternative; that God was just a deadbeat that didn’t care about anyone anymore.  
  
 _It’s so hard to remain faithful when the odds are stacked against me. Against us._  
  
There was however a spot of happiness in all of the gloom and doom. Since their small kiss a few weeks ago he and Dean had grown closer…if that were possible. He had been worried that his friend would react badly to his show of affection, yet had been pleasantly surprised when he’d simply accepted it. They hadn’t discussed what it could mean for  _them_  but Castiel was alright with that. He knew that Dean wasn’t the type of man to put his feelings into words, and he didn’t need him to be. He surmised he’d always know what was in Dean’s heart.  
  
And as for his own heart? To say that he cared about Dean would be too simplistic but attempting to explain his emotions would take words that only he would understand. So he was going to take a page out of the Winchester handbook and just keep things to himself for a while. What was the saying anyway? Actions spoke louder than words?  
  
“You think we’re gonna have problems with demons and stuff?” Sam inquired through a yawn. “At the camp I mean.”  
  
Dean shook his head. “I don’t see how with all the sigils and devil traps we’re gonna stick up. Rachel and what’s his face have already super proofed up the butt. Only demon allowed in is Crowley and  _that_ wasn’t my idea.” His grassy green eyes shifted to where Bobby grumbled into a phone.  
  
Sam smiled. “Knowing what’s going on in the demon world though won’t be the worst thing. And if Crowley tries to keep his business going we’ll just kick him out.”  
  
After telling Sam about the angels and their desire to help Dean, he’d been all for it. Especially after meeting Rachel and Inias. He deemed them harmless yet honest, saying that if Castiel vouched for them he saw no problems letting them hang around. Dean still wasn’t as sold on the idea but he was trying, and he realized it was better to have the help than to not have it. Yet he appeared to be a little…abrasive when Inias was around. He wasn’t rude to him but he also didn’t make any special effort to connect with him either. Then again he didn’t make any effort with Rachel either so… They didn’t mind however. They were used to the cold indifference of Michael so even getting to have a conversation with the man who carried his grace was a plus for them.  
  
“Inias informed me that Ambriel and Samandriel would also like to help.” Castiel replied. “Perhaps you should station one of them with the other hunters. They will obey whatever orders you give them even if you’re not there.”  
  
“Okay.” Dean patted his thigh, leaving his hand there with an almost forced nonchalance. “Man I hope this works out. I dunno how things were staying together in that fucked up future Zachariah showed me but they were. I hope we don’t get settled and then overrun by Crotes.”  
  
“I don’t think that will happen.” Sam’s eyes were sharp focused on his brother’s hand. He grinned but didn’t comment on it. “I’m gonna go start packing up the Impala.”  
  
As he got up and walked out Dean called after him, “You scratch my baby’s paint and I’m kicking your ass!”  
  
Sam just waved him off.  
  
Dean snorted. “Jackass.” Leaning his head back to the sofa, he stared up at the ceiling. “This could be the last time we’re here for a while. Or ever I guess.”  
  
Castiel placed his hand over Dean’s. “The Croatoan virus doesn’t affect you or me. We could always return if we need something even if the infected are about. You could teleport us.”  
  
A grin lit up Dean’s handsome face. “I should try that again, shouldn’t I? Knowing my luck though with everything on my mind I’d end up in China.”  
  
The angel tilted his head to the side. “The Great Wall is a beautiful sight to behold.” Pause. “The world will be different because of what is happening but its wonders will remain. You have the power to see them all.”  
  
Dean shrugged casually. “I’m a simple man, Cas. Long as people are safe I’m good.” Reaching up, he flicked an errant piece of hair off Castiel’s forehead. “You’ve been awesome these past few weeks. Helping out with everything and…your angel buddies. I uh, I feel better having you around where they are concerned. And period.”  
  
Ducking his head, Castiel smiled softly. “I am happy to be of use to you.”  
  
“Dude, if you were totally human and couldn’t lift a cup you’d still be of use to me—we’ve been over this. And it’s not about what you can do for me. Or Sam or Bobby. We all like havin’ you around. You’re family.”  
  
“I consider you to be my family as well. Which is why I would understand if you wish for Inias or Rachel to continue to help you with your control issues.”  
  
“What  _control_  issues?” Several books on the shelf shuddered, threatening to topple to the floor. “Hey I’m doing better. I stopped blowing out light bulbs whenever something on the news made me angry. And I don’t want  _Inias_  or  _Rachel_  teaching me anything. I want you.”  
  
Castiel felt his heart flutter in his chest. “Alright. If that is what you want.”  
  
Making sure that Bobby wasn’t paying them any attention, Dean clasped the back of Castiel’s neck and rubbed with his rough hand. “You know it is. Stop worrying so much, man. Like I told you, you’re awesome. I’d be up shit creek without a paddle if it weren’t for you.”  
  
While that was true it was still nice to hear. “Well if you hadn’t liberated me from that hospital I would probably be in the same predicament. I would not have faulted my caretakers for leaving me when things got too intense.”  
  
Dean frowned. “I’d have kicked their asses if they’d done that. Still think Michael’s a dick but he gave me his powers just in the nick of time. I’d have freaked out even more if all this shit started going down and I still had no clue where you were.”  
  
Castiel was touched by his friend’s concern. “You would have found me eventually.”  
  
Dean grunted in response and stood, stretching his arms above his head. His shirt rode up in the back, flashing smooth skin that Castiel dragged his fingers across it, causing him to shiver. “Heh I’m gonna help Sam pack. Why don’t you help Bobby with his books?” He winked and strolled out of the room.  
  
Licking his dry lips, Castiel touched his stomach as if it would somehow help with the tightening of it. Since that first night he’d crawled into bed with Dean they’d been sharing one. He was getting used to the feeling of an arm brushing his or being slung protectively across his waist. Wanting to touch Dean wasn’t  _new_ , he just had more understanding behind it now. He could comprehend why Dean’s smile made his heart thud or why certain looks of his made his mouth dry. He wasn’t completely sure but he…well he got the feeling that Dean  _desired_  him. Having never been desired before it was an altogether wonderful and stimulating experience.  
  
It was also helpful to have answers for things that happened in the past that had confounded him for many nights. Such as his emotions when Anna had turned and kissed Dean good-bye, uttering that she forgave him for turning her in. There had been regret but something else as well, something small and foreign that ran when he tried to chase it. He understood now that it had been a tiny spark of jealousy, perhaps not for the intimacies they shared but because Anna could relate to Dean on a level he couldn’t. Because Dean trusted Anna in a way he had yet come to trust him.  
  
How things had changed.  
  
“You just gonna sit there daydreamin’ bout your new boyfriend, or you gonna help me pack all this crap up?” Bobby groused at him. “I got more books than I can shake a stick at.”  
  
“Sorry.” Castiel cleared his throat. “What do you need me to do?”  
  
Bobby tossed an empty box at him. “Just put whatever is on the shelves in that. We’ll sort it out later.”  
  
Nodding, he started to do just that. “I don’t suppose I have ever thanked you for taking me in, as it were. So thank you.”  
  
The old hunter hunched his shoulders. “You helped the boys save the world. You’re a hunter whether you think so or not, and we take care of our own. Some of us anyway.” He sniffed as dust flew up into his weather beaten face. “Sides, Dean’s never really had a friend before. He’s got Sam but they’re brothers so… Never thought I’d be callin’ an  _angel_  his best friend but there ya go. Anyway Dean needs a friend. Boy’s stubborn as shit and John rode him hard for most of his life; screwed him up too. Kinda figured he’d never trust anybody enough who wasn’t family to let ‘em in. Then you came along.” He chuckled lowly. “You look out for his fool ass and I appreciate it.”  
  
Castiel felt that was the best stamp of approval he had ever received.  
  
~*~  
  
It took about four hours to get the camp up and running thanks to Inias and Rachel. It didn’t matter what Dean told them to do or asked them to do, they did it without provocation. Inias happily. Rachel…not so much. It was obvious she didn’t think much of him as a man but apparently she could overlook that to focus on what was beneath his skin. He didn’t much care as long as she didn’t start smiting people.  
  
Anyway he knew realistically they wouldn’t be able to save everyone or shelter everyone, but he wanted to take all those he could. Those that  _wanted_  to be there because some wouldn’t have enough trust to stick it out.  
  
They still had electricity and generators for when that crapped out, and Chuck—true to his word—had loads of toilet paper nearly bursting out of his old car. The mess hall kitchen had a working stove and a large freezer to hold perishables. There were also a few grills for the people that knew how to use them. Castiel told him that one day he would be able to conjure things like Gabriel; that would be a big help if whatever he made stuck around without him concentrating on it.  
  
Dean had no trouble getting the cabin he’d picked out weeks earlier mainly because Sam decided not to be an ass hat about it. He didn’t even have to rock, paper, scissors for it which was nice. He was in the process of shaking dust and ants from the old faded sheets of the bed when his brother’s gigantic shadow loomed in the doorway. “How could we forget sheets, man? There are enough dust mites in these to start a small country. Pretty sure I might have to exorcise some later.”  
  
Sam chuckled as he looked around. “You’ll be okay. Better than sleeping on the floor at Bobby’s where a beetle could crawl into your mouth.”  
  
True words. “Yeah. You find a place yet?”  
  
Sam nodded. “Yup. I think it’s gonna look nice once I get it cleaned and stuff. Heh after all this time we actually settle some place and it’s the camp I loved as a kid. Weird.”  
  
Dean smirked to himself. “Maybe for you Samantha, but for the rest of each it’s just a safe haven. Though if you wanna start a basket weaving class go ahead.”  
  
His brother flipped him off. “So what’s next? Now that we’re mostly good to go.”  
  
Dean sighed as he punched a pillow. “Start saving those we can I guess and bringing ‘em here. It’s a losing fight though even with the angels.”  
  
Sam arched a brow. “Maybe. But something tells me that’s not gonna stop you…”  
  
 _Probably not._  “It’s a dirty job but someone’s gotta do it. ‘Sides what good is this angel mojo shit if I don’t use it to help people? Not that starting fires with my mind isn’t fun but…yeah.”  
  
Snickering, Sam brushed hair out of his eyes. “Where’s Cas?”  
  
Dean gestured out a window. “With Inias most likely. They’ve been catching up.” Something that he decided not to focus on, because there was nothing  _to_  focus on. Castiel could have friends of course.  
  
“Um…” Sam cleared his throat. “Are you two like, together now? I mean I’ve uh, I’ve just noticed you seem closer.”  
  
“Compared to what?” Dean asked him. “We were pretty close before. He  _did_  pull me outta Hell.”  
  
“No yeah I—I know but I mean  _closer_.” He smashed his hands together. “Which Dean, if you are it’s totally okay with me. I just want you to be happy.”  
  
“ _Sam_.” Dean wet his lips. He hated this sort of thing but he figured he owed Sam some sort of explanation, even a small one. “Cas and I are good. Really good. Ya know it’s been nice, having him around and not worrying about where he is or if he’s in trouble.”  
  
“So…you’re not a couple?”  
  
“Jesus. We’re… Are you being a dick on purpose?”  
  
Sam threw his head back with a laugh. “No but watching you squirm does fill me with a sense of glee.” Pause. “Honestly it’s kinda obvious you’re  _something_. Neither one of you are exactly stealthy about it. I am happy for you though.”  
  
Dean walked over and punched him in the arm. “You’re an asshole. Get out of my house.”  
  
His little brother grinned. “I love you too.” Humming happily, he turned and strolled out of the cabin.  
  
Dean would have thrown socks at his head if he’d had any on hand. “Bitch.”  
  
It wasn’t like he didn’t think about his relationship with Castiel because he did. Especially since that kiss. But he didn’t think it needed a label, and he damn sure didn’t think they should sit down and talk about it. He was just happy he wasn’t having some form of gay panic about it—well not a lot anyway. He got though that liking Cas didn’t mean he was gay; he still liked chicks after all. Or he probably would if one showed up that caught his eye. He wasn’t looking but he knew the option was reserved, if that made any sort of sense. So far though all he could think about was Cas.  
  
Cas’ eyes and his lips and his perpetual sex hair and had he always looked like  _that_? Oh and his  _voice_. He remembered talking to Jimmy Novak and idly musing on the difference. How having an angel inside of him pulled on his vocal chords until something raspy and rocky came out. It made him wonder what Cas sounded like without the aid of a vessel. Surely he could hear him and understand him now; that it wouldn’t just be a loud whistling busting his eardrums.  
  
Anyway since that kiss they hadn’t kissed again, and that was on Dean. He wanted to do more kissing but he also didn’t wanna just lunge at Castiel. Poor guy was getting used to a lot, and the last thing he needed was Dean pawing at him like a horny teenager. Even if that was kinda how he felt sometimes. Sharing a bed with the angel didn’t make that any better. In fact it gave him some interesting dreams. And he was sure their earlier grace sharing connected them even more. Touching Cas’ arm was one thing, touching what made Cas,  _Cas_  was another. Like wrapping an extension cord around his hand and then sticking it into a bucket of water, but in a good way.  
  
The truth of it was; Dean didn’t allow himself to want much of anything anymore, if at all beyond what he was obligated to want. But…yeah he wanted Castiel.  
  
To himself.  
  
Rolling his shoulders and feeling his massive wings shift, he grabbed one of the rags he’d found earlier and batted down cobwebs from the corner. The floor creaked as he moved but he paid it no attention, instead wondering if it would be in bad form to ask Rachel and Inias to go find him some furniture. He needed a lamp.  
  
“Dean.”  
  
“Yeah?” He glanced to where Castiel stood. “Inias fluttered off?”  
  
“He and Chuck are having a riveting conversation about the Winchester Gospels.” Castiel said. “I assume the plan is to start bringing in survivors tomorrow.”  
  
 _Better get a good night’s sleep tonight._  “Guess we’ll see how this all works out then.” A beat. “You find a place to crash?”  
  
Castiel looked at him. “Can I not stay here with you?”  
  
Dean felt his face heat up. Stupid face. “No—I mean yeah. I just—I thought you might want your own place. It’s okay to want your own things, Cas.”  
  
The angel actually  _rolled his eyes._  “I know. However I do not need as much shelter or provisions as anyone else, not yet anyway. I could take a cabin but someone else will arrive who needs it more. Besides…I’d rather share with you. I haven’t exactly spent much time alone—being a part of the Host of course—but there is an inherent loneliness to being what I am. Being around you greatly dampens that loneliness.”  
  
It wasn’t like he could say no after that, not that he would anyway. “Heh you keep that up and you’ll pick up my bad habits.”  
  
Castiel smiled lightly. “I do not mind. I’ve already picked up your best ones.”  
  
 _Fuck._  Dean exhaled deeply and tossed the rag in his hand to the floor. He crossed the wooden planks to where Castiel stood and tipped up his chin, catching his mouth in a hot kiss that made the angel gasp lightly. Castiel’s hands latched onto Dean’s waist and his eyes fluttered closed as he tried to mimic Dean’s movements. Usually Dean liked his romantic partners to be more experienced but there was something to be said for Cas’ innocent yet eager response to his presence. Not to mention the fact that he trusted Dean to guide him and teach him.  
  
Their kiss was gentle but it made something warm twist in the pit of his stomach, something possessive. It was scary to think it but he’d always want Cas’ kisses—if he could he’d hoard them greedily—and he was prepared to punch anyone else that tried to take them. Maybe that was an angel thing.  
  
Dean ran his fingers through Castiel’s hair after his brain connected to the fact that he  _could_. He could kiss and taste and touch Castiel all he wanted and it would be okay. “Shit…” Pulling back, he rested his forehead to Castiel’s. “This is okay, right?”  
  
Castiel’s lips were red. “Yes. Very.”  
  
Dean chuckled and pecked his mouth again, tugging on his bottom lip with his teeth. “Wanna blow off clean up duty for a while?”  
  
Castiel eyed him curiously. “And…do more kissing?”  
  
The hunter smirked. “Yeah. I think we have some time to make up for. I mean we could have been doing this months ago if shit hadn’t been raining from the ceiling.” Though honestly he wasn’t sure he would have been ready or even accepted  _this_  months ago. He probably would have freaked out and ran far away, threw himself into women because that is what was expected of him. Because that is what he’d been basically taught.  
  
And he would have shunned Cas until he lost him. Forced to pretend it didn’t matter when deep down it would have tore him up inside.  
  
 _Wonder what changed?_  
  
Castiel touched Dean’s cheek. “Though this new development in our relationship is one that I am readily happy to explore, I would still be happy to be here with you without it. I’ve had many comrades but I’ve never had a true friend.”  
  
“I haven’t been the best friend.” Dean leaned into his touch. “I say angels are dicks but I’ve been a pretty big dick to you as well sometimes. Sorry. I wouldn’t blame you if you wanted to go out and do a little cloud seeding with someone else. Play the field.”  _Just please don’t go off and have orgies._  
  
“To what purpose?”  
  
“Other experiences?”  
  
“That sounds absurd. Why would I have experiences with others when it is  _you_  I want?”  
  
“I don’t know. Maybe you wanna check out the grass on the other side before settling with me.”  
  
“Dean, I’m fine with the grass I have.”  
  
His words made Dean laugh and he pulled him into a rough hug, pressing his face into Castiel’s neck and inhaling. For some strange reason Castiel kept choosing him and the feeling it caused squeezed his heart super tight. He’d always thought losing Sam would be the worst thing ever, but now he added Castiel to that list as well. He wasn’t sure what he would do without either of them. With his new powers though he was pretty certain there would be fire involved.  
  
Grunting, he swerved them around and started walking backwards towards his bed, pulling Cas with him. His knees hit the back of it and he fell back, using the momentum to bring the angel down on top of him. His fingers dipped under Cas’ shirt to walk up soft, warm skin. “Can I ask you something kinda weird?”  
  
Castiel arched a brow but nodded. “Yes.”  
  
Grinning, Dean shifted until they were both on their sides facing each other. “How far did you get with that chick at the brothel?”  
  
Castiel frowned. “She kissed me and while she was undoing my tie, I told her about her father.”  
  
Dean growled playfully. “And here I thought I was your first kiss.”  
  
“Yours was the first with tongue.”  
  
“I can live with that.”  
  
Winking, he drew Castiel in for another kiss, sucking on his lips and tangling their tongues together. Castiel moaned softly and pressed closer, his hands sliding up and down Dean’s back. Dean pulled Castiel’s leg over his thigh so that he could shimmy even closer and rub against him, the friction causing both of them to shudder. It had been a long time since Dean made out just for the sake of making out, but this had him wondering why he’d ever stopped. All this time he could have been building the tension or whatever until the main event.  
  
The skin of Castiel’s throat looked very inviting so Dean dipped down to nibble at it, dragging his tongue over the salty flesh before finding the perfect place to stop and suck. He wasn’t sure he could leave a mark or that it would stay but that didn’t stop him from trying. His teeth nipped and bit and Castiel shivered, digging his fingers into Dean’s shoulder blades.  
  
Dean straddled Castiel’s thighs and tugged off his t-shirt, letting it drop to the floor. In the dim light of the cabin from the old lamp he’d found he could see Castiel’s bright eyes looking him over and taking him in. A slender hand came up slowly to touch his chest, tracing the black ink of his anti-possession tattoo.  
  
“I etched this back into your flesh.” He said reverently. “At the time I found it to be quite an ingenious way to keep yourself safe.”  
  
“Yeah?” Dean flexed his muscles. “You must have thought I was one handsome son of a bitch when you were sowing me back together.”  
  
Castiel’s lips moved in a ghost of a smile. “I was actually more focused on the brightness of your soul. It was tucked against my wings while I healed your body, radiating ease even after all the horrors it’d seen.” He noticed a scar on Dean’s side and moved down to touched it before leaning up and pressing his mouth to it.  
  
Dean shivered, threading his fingers through the angel’s dark hair. He was content to let Cas explore him all he wanted; to let his hands trail along his tanned ribs and over his nipples. As long as he could do the same of course. “Hey Cas, do you ever wanna ditch this body and just be yourself?”  
  
Castiel shook his head. “No. Sometimes I get the urge to  _stretch_  but I consider this body a gift. I would never abandon it.”  
  
“That’s cool. To be honest I like this body.” He pushed up Castiel’s shirt, thumbs brushing his pecs. “Not as…bouncy as I’m used to but it has its perks.”  
  
“Am I the…first man you have ever been with?”  
  
“No. But you’re the first who’s ever meant anything. Who wasn’t just a fumble in some rest stop bathroom.”  
  
Castiel smiled and pulled Dean down for another kiss, his hand fitting perfectly on the hand print seared into Dean’s bicep. He’d never touched it before and lights didn’t explode behind his eyes, but was still an important moment for Dean. It felt  _right_. It made him forget about all of the bullshit going on outside or the things he’d have to deal with from there on out. It made him ease off Castiel’s shirt and continue their sucking kisses, enjoying the feeling of warm skin against skin.  
  
With the world going belly up, Dean couldn’t think of a better way to spend his last night of peace than in the arms of his angel.  
  
~*~  
  
Dean awoke early the next morning after about six hours of sleep, his eyes itching but his mind calm. He yawned and tightened his arm around Castiel, pressing a kiss into his dark hair. Castiel hummed as his fingertips continued to draw what he supposed were Enochian symbols on his stomach. It tickled but he didn’t shy away.  
  
“Did you sleep?”  
  
“No.” Castiel replied. “I meditated and allowed my mind to rest.”  
  
“Ah. Well if you ever get to the point where you need to catch some shut eye, just do it. I’ll watch over you.” Dean dug the heel of his palm into his eyes. “It’s not as bad as you think—sleeping that is. I mean you didn’t wanna eat but now you practically love my burgers. And you like showering…”  
  
“I do those minor things to conserve energy.” He explained softly. “Sleep will only be a last resort. I enjoy being awake to see everything.”  
  
Dean snickered before forcing himself to sit up. “I could stay in this bed all day.”  
  
Castiel rose fluidly, brushing dust off his t-shirt. “That would be pleasurable but you have a lot of work to do.”  
  
 _Don’t remind me._  “Ya know seeing my future self all hardened and shit made me never wanna be that way. He had to make all the tough decisions and he didn’t give a shit about anything. What if I turn into him?”  
  
Castiel shook his head. “That will never happen. You are not alone in any of this. Not like I assume he was. You have Sam and Bobby and me.”  
  
 _He had a Cas too and look how that turned out._  “I hope you’re right.” Groaning, he steeled himself for a long day. “Alright. Let’s do this.”  
  
An hour later and Inias arrived with the first batch of survivors. They were scared to death and clutching whatever belongings they had managed to escape with, their eyes darting around frantically. It was a small group of about fifteen but they were clean; Inias explained he had waited with them himself to see if any of them turned. Before bringing them to the camp he’d also destroyed the town because it was a lost cause, sucking it down into the Earth into a large sinkhole.  
  
The image had made Dean cringe but realistically he figured it was the right thing to do.  
  
Standing up and speaking on behalf of their rag tag band of  _whatever_  wasn’t exactly easy but he managed to get through it. The crowd had a lot of questions about what was going on and he was honest with them because he decided they’d earned it. Why bullshit them with flowery words when they’d seen with their own eyes how fucked up things were getting? At least this way they could prepare for what was to come, and let go of their old lives.  
  
A couple wanted to know who put  _him_  in charge and why they had to listen to  _him_ , and he told them they didn’t have to him. They could walk down that dirt road and fend for themselves if they thought they could do any better. He didn’t care because he had angels on his side so he’d probably be okay. Could they say the same?  
  
Things got pretty somber after that and then Sam had taken over to help them find cabins of their own.  
  
To be honest Dean didn’t see all of them actually staying. He just got a feeling that some would run away in the middle of the night, egged on by fear and their own twitchy natures. He wasn’t going to keep anyone that didn’t wanna be kept. He could only offer what he had and if they didn’t take it well, that was on them.  
  
Anyway things went smoothly for another couple of hours even with Chuck following behind Dean—clipboard in hand—asking him inane questions about canned goods and shampoo. Of course when he wasn’t talking about supplies he was asking about Rachel and Dean told him he was on his own there. Just to be careful and not get killed if he tried to  _go there_.  
  
“So far so good.” Sam said as he joined Dean where he stood watching people meander about. “Jodi is helping the women; I think knowing this isn’t a sausage party makes them feel better. Makes me feel better.”  
  
Dean sniggered. “I thought your puppy dog eyes would be doing that. Losing your touch?”  
  
Sam snorted. “I don’t think any amount of puppy dog eyes could make their situation okay.” Pause. “So…Bobby and Jodi are totally sharing a cabin.”  
  
That made Dean grin broadly. “That old dog. Good for him. Wonder if they put her handcuffs to good use?”  
  
His brother groaned in discomfort. “Dude, no.”  
  
Dean wiggled his brows and folded his arms over his chest, noticing a group of about four guys having a conversation. They were older than him and Sam with graying beards and dirty vests. The one with a red bandana was smoking a cigar, his tall friend shoving chewing tobacco into his mouth. However it was the guy in very dirty jeans that caught Dean’s attention because of what he pulled out of his pocket; an unmistakable white baggie of heroin.  
  
Now Dean wasn’t one to tell someone what they couldn’t do and he’d dabbled in drugs before, nothing too hard because hunting while high was a recipe for disaster. But he’d tried a few things. Still he had a firm stance on it at the camp and he wasn’t even going to pretend it wasn’t due to future Castiel and his blasé stance on uppers and downers. Who knows what he’d put into his body while chasing that feeling of still being an angel?  
  
He didn’t even want the temptation of it around.  
  
He was walking over to the small group before he even registered it. “Sorry man but that ain’t gonna fly here.”  
  
Dirty jeans blinked at him. “Excuse me?”  
  
Dean motioned to the drugs. “I don’t mind a little weed or whatever but  _that_  stuff ain’t welcomed here.”  
  
Tall-y frowned. “Says who?”  
  
Dean’s face twitched. “Me.”  
  
“Well…” And suddenly Tall-y had a gun in his hand. “Maybe we don’t give a rat’s ass what you say. What? You think just ‘cause you’ve got friends in high places were supposed to listen to you? I’ve got socks older than you, asshole. If my buddy wants to make himself feel good then shit, who are you to stop him?”  
  
“Dave’s got a point.” Dirty jeans mused. “So why don’t cha run along and bake a cake or something, huh sweetheart? I’m sure your blue eyed side piece would appreciate it.”  
  
“I’m only gonna tell you once—” Dean began.  
  
“Good! Then I don’t have to pretend to listen anymore.” Dave interrupted, pointing the gun at him. “So get lost!”  
  
Since Hell Dean wasn’t the most patient man alive and he just couldn’t suffer fools anymore. When people didn’t listen—especially those he was trying to help—it made the hair on the back of his neck stand on end. He wasn’t trying to help these idiots but the fact that they were so quick to pull a gun on him made him question the safety of everyone else at the camp. He wasn’t exactly against a few others having weapons but what else would they use a weapon to try to get?  
  
Growling, he felt a jolt trickle down his right arm as dark clouds abruptly filled the sky. Thunder rumbled loudly over head, making everyone in the area stop and look up as if expecting rain. Purple lightning streaked across the heavens before striking the ground with a deafening crack behind Dean’s shoulder, forcing a few people to scream in terror.   
  
And then there it was in Dean’s right hand, heavy with a thick silver hilt, the sharp end dragging in the dirt. Michael’s angel sword.  
  
It was longer than Castiel’s but had the same intricate engravings and felt  _right_  nestled in his palm. Lifting it slowly and pointing it at Dave, Dean smirked. “They say never bring a knife to a gun fight but something tells me I’d win this one. But by all means if you wanna try me, go ahead and pull the trigger. Be ready for what happens next though…which will be me shoving this up your ass and out your throat.”  
  
Dave’s friends backed up, hands lifted. The man in question looked as if he wanted to fight back or take a shot but in the end he tossed the heroin onto the ground. “Fine. Take it.”  
  
“Listen up!” Dean shouted to whoever was in the area. “You wanna drink until you can’t see straight or smoke some weed to mellow out then go right ahead. But I don’t want  _this shit_ ,” he pointed to the small baggie. “…in my fucken camp. Don’t like that? Well you’re free to leave. Now we’re  _all_  here because none of us can do any better against those goddamn assholes on the loose. So that means we gotta use common sense and not go to shit just because everything else is.” Pause. “If I find anymore of this stuff I’m setting it on fire. With my mind. Capisce?”  
  
The crowd murmured their agreement—the assholes begrudgingly but Dean didn’t give a damn as long as they agreed. As long as he never had to worry about Castiel or even Sam getting their hands on that stuff; especially not with their addictive personalities. He  _never_  wanted to see Castiel broken and without hope. And he never wanted to see his brother once again scrambling for some toxic shit that would fuck up his head.  
  
Huffing, he yanked up the drugs and tossed them into a burning tin barrel of debris. “Fuck.”  
  
Sam appeared thoughtful but he didn’t question his brother about his tirade. Not yet anyway. “Nice sword.”  
  
Dean smiled at it. “It gets the job done.”


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter Eight  
  
Chuck wasn’t much of a writer and he was even worse of a fighter, but Castiel admired his dedication to the one job Dean had given him. It was obviously to keep him out of the way but he appeared to take pride in it, following people and asking them what supplies they needed before writing it all down onto his clipboard. He had different sections for different people so that he wouldn’t get confused and he used a red pen for things they were already running low on. However he was never too busy to greet Rachel when she returned from rescuing people or with information about the outside world.  
  
He liked Rachel which was a bit unfortunate because Rachel would probably be one of the last to warm up to humanity, if she ever did. She would gaze at Dean with something like awed revulsion sometimes, her emotions warring over the fact that he was  _Dean_  and yet also  _Michael_. Still she was civil to Chuck and let him follow her around while she moved heavy things or simply took in the scenery. Castiel hoped they grew closer; it would be good for both of them.  
  
Chuck’s duty made him question is own place amongst the growing survivors. He still had enough powers to be of use even if later he would need a recharge but he wasn’t quite sure where to start. Everyone was scared but trying to make the best of a new situation, and he wanted to offer comfort but his people skills in that area left much to be desired. He didn’t think squeezing their shoulders would have the effect he wanted it to have.  
  
Dean was okay with him simply wandering around but he didn’t like that idea. And then he had found seeds tucked between two buckets and Sam had suggested he start a garden; that fresh vegetables and fruits would be awesome. It wasn’t much but he liked plants and he knew he could coax them to grow by surrounding them with his grace. Contributing any little bit would be better than sitting around while everyone else participated. So he cleared a nice spot beside his and Dean’s cabin and got to work.  
  
He was digging in the dirt with his trowel and wondering what type of manure he could reasonably get for fertilizer when the sound of wings flapping drew his attention up from his work. There was a blonde man standing in front of him in a black suit sans fancy shirt and tie with a smirk on his tanned face. It was a face Castiel hadn’t seen in ages, one he was sure had perished in the war against Lucifer, one he’d grieved for.  
  
“Balthazar?” He questioned slowly.  
  
“Hello Castiel.” Balthazar said with a melodious British accent. “It’s so good to see you.”  
  
Castiel stood, taking off his gardening gloves. “We thought you were dead. That you had perished in the war.”  
  
Balthazar nodded. “Mm yes that is what I wanted everyone to think, that way they wouldn’t come after me. Turns out Gabriel had the right idea all along. There are far greener pastures out there, Castiel. As you have seen for yourself.”  
  
Castiel frowned at him. “I stayed and fought for years after you ran away. I don’t think it’s the same thing.”  
  
The other angel shrugged. “Perhaps. And yet here we both are. Which to be honest is very amusing to me. I mean you were always such a good little soldier—doing whatever Anna told you to do. Just because I’ve been on my own doesn’t mean I haven’t kept abreast of what has been happening.” He grinned. “The Apocalypse. Michael and Lucifer whipping out their measuring tapes to see which one is bigger.  _You_ siding with Michael’s vessel against Heaven. A couple of hairless apes actually managing to pull it off…”  
  
Castiel stared at him. “And where were you while we were fighting for what’s right?”  
  
Balthazar shoved his hands into his pockets. “The beaches of Rio.” Pause. “Anyway I heard about Gabriel killing Lucifer and Raphael being in control of Heaven so I thought I would come see what all the fuss was about. Ghastly things those Croatoan infected, aren’t they? Almost makes going back to Heaven seem like a viable option.”  
  
His words made Castiel smile. “Except Raphael would have you tortured for leaving your post. He would strike you down into Hell for not fighting.”  
  
Groaning, Balthazar pressed his lips together. “Perhaps I should just stay here then with you. Now that the stick has been removed from your ass I’m sure you’re a lot more fun. We could have orgies.”  
  
 _It is nice to see that Balthazar hasn’t changed. I think._  “I…don’t think Dean would like that.”  
  
A spark twinkled in his friend’s dark blue eyes. “Ah yes, Dean Winchester. The head ape. I hear you two are quite close.”  
  
Castiel blushed. “We…are bonded, yes. Dean is an admirable man.”  
  
Balthazar snickered. “Yes I’m sure what he does to you is very  _admirable_. I’m proud of you, Castiel. You’re mingling with humans and shacking up with one. Rebellion looks good on you. How are you managing to hold onto your grace if you’re technically banished from Heaven?”  
  
It wasn’t something he wanted to discuss, not even with one of his oldest friends. Thankfully he didn’t have to because seconds later Dean strolled over, axe slung over his shoulder from where he’d been out chopping fire wood. “Hey Cas. Everything okay?”  
  
“Well if it isn’t the man of the hour.” Balthazar mused. “All sweaty from going out and slaughtering the bacon.”  
  
Dean arched a curious brow. “Lemme guess, another freaken angel come to join the pow wow.”  
  
Castiel gently took the axe from him and placed it against the cabin. Better safe than sorry especially since Dean was wary of strangers. “Dean this is Balthazar. We were soldiers on the front lines together until he…disappeared.”  
  
Dean nodded. “So, you here to work too?”  
  
Balthazar snorted. “Oh God no. I simply wanted to check in with Cassy here and see how he was fairing. However I suppose if you need something you could always give me a call. If I’m not busy I’ll see what I can do.” A grin. “Then again with the world going to Hell staying here doesn’t sound like a bad idea. Is there alcohol?”  
  
Dean sighed, not impressed. “You’re like Gabriel, huh? Living by your own rules? I can respect that. I just hope you don’t have his sense of humor if you  _do_  decide to stay.”  
  
“I’ve become much more of a lover than a fighter.”  
  
“Okay. Keep your nose clean and we’ll have no problems.”  
  
“And if I don’t keep my nose clean?”  
  
“I’ll wipe it off your smug face.”  
  
“You and what army?”  
  
“You’d be surprised, dude.”  
  
Castiel cleared his throat. “Dean has the allegiance of Michael’s followers because he has Michael’s grace.”  
  
For a moment Balthazar actually looked unnerved. “I see. Big brother’s watching, eh?” He cut his eyes to Castiel teasingly. “Must be good, dating the Prince.” A beat. “I’ll be in touch, Cassy. Take care of yourself.”  
  
He disappeared with a flap of wings and although he was slightly annoying, Castiel was happy to know he was alive. Angry that he’d lied all of these many years but happy that he seemed to be happy. He couldn’t fault him for wanting a life away from the Host; not after he knew how wonderful it could be.  
  
Dean wiped his wrist across his dirty, damp forehead. “Would I be a horrible person if I said I was glad he didn’t decide to stick around?”  
  
Castiel chuckled. “No I don’t think so. Balthazar is an acquired taste. He usually ends up doing the right thing though.” Motioning for Dean to follow, he led him inside of the cabin and dug a bottle of water out of his duffle bag.   
  
“Ugh thanks.” He took it gratefully, prying off the top and gulping it down. “Pretty sure I could mojo the wood into pieces but I don’t wanna accidentally topple another tree. That poor outhouse never had a chance.”  
  
“I think you are doing very well.” Castiel murmured. “You will reach a balance with your powers eventually. And even if you don’t it’s alright.”  
  
“Yeah.” Dean grew a little pensive before guzzling down more water. “So I know you’re doing garden stuff but I was wondering if maybe you wanted to get in some target practice. Sam set up a makeshift range for the people with weapons training. Keeps their mind off of shit I guess.”  
  
It sounded a bit exciting. “I think I’d be useless with a gun.”  
  
Dean finished off his water and put the empty bottle down. “Nah I don’t believe that. You’re kick ass with a sword and shooting is mostly hitting your target. I think you’d have good aim. Besides you’re helping me with angel crap so I wanna help you with human crap.”  
  
Castiel placed his gloves on the table. “Alright. I put myself into your capable hands.”  
  
Dean smiled widely and yanked him closer, not caring that his shirt was drenched in sweat. “I like the sound of that.” He smoothed his nose along Castiel’s cheek and then down along his throat, kissing at his soft skin. “Of course we could blow that off and get back into bed.”  
  
Laughing, Castiel gently pushed him away. “No I want to learn to use a gun. There is plenty of time for intimate things later.”  
  
With a cute little pout, Dean huffed but moved to the bag that held some of his guns. Most of his weapons were still in the truck of the Impala because he didn’t trust anyone not to steal them. “Let’s go. And then food. Gonna put those steaks Inias brought to good use.”  
  
They all knew steaks and other foods wouldn’t always be available especially with how fast the virus was spreading. So it made sense to stock up now, to bring in farm animals in the hopes that they could never be infected. Sam wasn’t fond of the chickens they’d acquired and made a point to stay away from where they were being kept. One had chased him apparently.  
  
Castiel got a sense that Dean was trying to do everything differently from the vision Zachariah had subjected him to. The area was more like a small community than just a place to live until you died. He had a feeling the survivors were thankful for it.  
  
Quietly he followed Dean to the crude targeting area; four plastic barrels with orange paper circles drawn on them. Dean handed him a loaded pistol and positioned him a fair distance away. “Just point and shoot.”  
  
Without his grace he was sure he would have been a terrible shot. However as it was he could see the other bullet holes perfectly; the places where he needed to hit or miss. So he held the foreign piece of machinery in his hand and fired, not flinching at the loud bang bang bang. The bullets hit their goal flawlessly, embedding deep into the dark plastic.  
  
“I knew you would be awesome at this!” Dean exclaimed proudly. “I’m gonna teach you how to clean ‘em too. And then get you a holster for one of your own.”  
  
“Okay.” He replied. “Though I am not sure I would fare as well with a moving target.”  
  
“Maybe we’ll try to rig up a skeet thing.” Dean rubbed his chin. “Some kinda pulley that launches a plate or something into the air for people to shoot at.”  
  
It was an odd thought to have but Castiel felt even with the world crumbling to ash that Dean was somewhat happy. He was certainty in his element though he often thought otherwise. But there was a reason everyone was looking to him for guidance; he was an amazing leader. Michael had probably always known he would be—that was probably why he’d targeted him, bloodline notwithstanding. In the end as stubborn and dedicated as Michael had been, even he had bowed to Dean’s guidance.  
  
It was a remarkable thing to be a part of.  
  
~*~  
  
Inias arrived three hours later with another group of frightened people, some still sobbing. Castiel sat on the steps of his new home, petting a big black stray cat that he was secretly going to keep whether Dean signed off on it or not. However from the way Dean was watching him interact with it he was pretty sure he could convince him that having a pet would be beneficial to them. Not to mention they couldn’t just leave it out alone without food and shelter.  
  
Dean gave the newcomers the same speech he’d given the first about safety and having hope; seeing others already meandering around seemed to make it go over easier than the first group.  
  
 _I wonder what they think of Inias when he arrives saying that he is and angel of the Lord, there to rescue them? Do they automatically believe him or run from him?_  
  
“Dean?” Called a young woman as she broke from the small crowd, pushing long black hair out of her face. “Is—is that you?”  
  
Dean blinked. “Sarah?”  
  
She grinned and quickly hugged him. “Oh my God I can’t believe it’s you! Wh—when all this stuff started happening I immediately thought of you and Sam. I just knew you were out there, helping people.”  
  
He chuckled happily. “Dude! I thought we’d never see you again! Sam! Sam!”  
  
“What? What’s wrong?” Sam called as he lumbered out of a cabin. His expression morphed into one of shock at the sight of Sarah. “Sarah?”  
  
She smiled, ducking her head. “Hey Sam. You…look good.”  
  
He stumbled over and hugged her. “So do you. I—wow this is—are you okay?”  
  
She nodded, motioning to the older man watching all of them with interest. “Your… _friend_  saved me and my dad right as those… _things_  were attacking. What is going on?”  
  
Dean slapped his brother in the back. “Hey Sammy, why don’t you get Sarah and her dad all settled in. Tell them about the Crotes and what kinda conditioner you use in your hair now. I’m sure she’d appreciate it.”  
  
Sam glared at him before flashing Sarah a smile. “Don’t mind him. He’s still as immature as he was when we first met. I’m glad you’re okay though. You too Mr. Blake. C’mon we uh—we’ll find a place for you.” Pause. “Everyone c’mon. I—yeah…”  
  
Snickering, Dean gave Sam a thumbs up and then walked over to where Castiel had observed the whole thing. “This is awesome.”  
  
Castiel tilted his head to the side. “How so?”  
  
Dean pointed to Sarah. “That girl? She is so cool. We worked a job a few years ago with a haunted painting and she helped. Like we told her the deal and she just rolled with it. Had an obvious thing for Sammy too. I told him to marry her back then…” A beat. “Maybe now he actually will.”  
  
“It must be nice to know the people you have saved are living good lives.” Castiel pulled the purring cat into his lap.  
  
“It is.” The hunter looked thoughtful. “We don’t like, check back in or anything. I figure most would rather forget we even exist so they can go back to thinking everything is fine. Nice to know some wanna remember us.” His eyes fell to the cat. “I see you made a new friend…”  
  
Castiel hummed. “He told me his name is Mortimer.”  
  
“ _Mortimer_? And I didn’t know you could talk to cats.”  
  
“It’s a skill I don’t need to use very often. I can also talk to plants, fish and bees.”  
  
“Uh-huh. So what does Morti want?”  
  
“A warm place to stay and someone to love him.”  
  
Dean growled but Castiel knew that meant he had already given in. “Whatever. He better not try to take my side of the bed!”  
  
~*~  
  
It wasn’t fair really. It wasn’t fair that Cas could look at him with those big sad eyes and boom, suddenly they had a damn cat. Yeah it was better than a dog because he hated dogs but still, it was some furry little needy thing that would probably claw up his jeans and have Cas wrapped around its kitty finger. Though Dean wasn’t kidding himself; it could have been a baby bear and he probably would have still said yes. It was hard to resist Cas and his eyes and his gentle smiles when he was pleased.  
  
If a stupid cat made him happy then he could deal with it.  
  
Leaning over the thick railing with a beer dangling from his fingertips, Dean focused on a barrel of trash someone had left burning. He stared at it and stared at it until the rusted brown metal curved in on itself with a loud grating sound, snuffing out the fire by denying it air.   
  
“You are a fast learner.” Inias appeared beside him, hands clasped behind his back.  
  
Dean jerked only a little, thankful that weird feeling in his gut usually alerted him now that an angel was near. “Cas is a good teacher.”  
  
Inias smiled. “That he is.” He sighed wistfully. “Before I get distracted I would like to debrief you on the situation pertaining to the infected. I had just arrived to where the humans had barricaded themselves in some building when a group of Crotes—as you call them—attacked. I—I’m sorry to report sir that a few humans in my charge were infected before I could destroy the Crotes. There were just so many of them and they were so  _vicious_. Their hands were covered in blood and they dug in with their nails, ripping out clumps of skin. Biting with bloodstained teeth.”  
  
Dean could see it all so well in his mind, remembering that little girl that had slashed at him like a madman. “It’s okay, man. I know you did your best.”  
  
Inias lowered his gaze. “I destroyed those that I could and then turned my attention to the survivors. I’ve watched humanity for such a long time but this is the first time I’ve ever actually  _seen_  them. I understand their beauty now.”  
  
 _More chick flick stuff huh? Okay you can do this._  “Cool. I’m sure they’re happy you’re helping them. I would be.”  
  
Beaming, Inias turned to face him. “Thank you Mi—Dean. I can see why Castiel likes you so much. I have known him for as long as I’ve known myself and yet I have never seen him as alive as he is when he’s with you. He was a good soldier and a good son, and I always assumed what made one happy made the rest happy. Serving God  _did_  make him happy but it’s different with you. It’s…warm.”  
  
Dean didn’t reply, just took another swig from his beer. Inias didn’t seem to mind though or really notice; he continued talking, “I know how much you care about him. It’s so evident really. Other angels might refuse to see it or at least acknowledge it but I have no problems doing so. I’m glad my brother is being so well taken care of. And I am proud to follow you, Dean, and to help humans.”  
  
“Thanks.” Dean said softly, uncertain of what  _else_  to say. Getting Cas to rebel and then witnessing him slowly deteriorate and be hunted by his so called family always weighed heavily on his mind. However knowing that Inias didn’t blame him—never mind that Castiel didn’t either—made him feel better. It was nice to know that not every angel in creation wanted his head on a pike for seducing their bother to the so-called dark side. “I appreciate what you and Rachel are doing. Things wouldn’t be going half as well as they are without you guys.”  
  
“You are very welcome.” Inias replied cheerfully.  
  
Dean’s thoughts turned to Sarah—who was no doubt hanging out with Sam in his cabin—and other people like her. Ones they had saved and sent out into the world to hopefully make a go of it. He couldn’t remember all of them because there had been  _so_  many, but two in particular stood out in his mind.  
  
“Hey Inias, can you do me a favor?”  
  
“Of course. I shall do anything you ask.”  
  
“Heh okay. I just uh—there is this family called the Braedens, Lisa and Ben. I would really appreciate it if you could make sure they get to a safe place.”  
  
“Of course. I can go do that now if you wish? Would you like me to bring them here?”  
  
 _Would I like him to bring them here?_  It was a good question and before the mountain of shit he’d recently dealt with he would have immediately been all for bringing them to Chitaqua. But things were so different now. It sounded horrible but he didn’t need a pre-made family to insert himself into. He already  _had_  a family and someone that—hopefully—wanted to spend the rest of their days with him. And with the way things were going there would probably be kids that needed guardians; that didn’t have anyone because of the Crotes. He wasn’t wishing for it but it was bound to happen, and he wanted to be there for them when it ultimately did.  
  
Having Lisa and Ben at the camp would just complicate things that were pretty straight forward. They would have questions about his powers and about Castiel; he could see things taking a turn for the worst to be honest. He wanted them safe—needed them safe—but he wasn’t stuck on the idea that they were perfect for him anymore just because deep down he wanted something of his own. He still wanted that but organically.   
  
“No, don’t bring them here.” He said after a few beats. “Take ‘em to Rufus’ place. But if they ask why they are there  _don’t_  say I said take them there. Just say…it’s closer or something.”  
  
“Yes sir.” He left with a low whoosh.  
  
Draining the last of his beer, he tossed the bottle into a crate to be recycled or something and made his way into his cabin. It didn’t look as comfortable as it had in his future trip but he supposed that was because there was no stoner Cas to decorate it. However he fully planned to add real furniture when he could though the beads were never gonna happen. Just the sound alone when they blew in the wind would drive him crazy.  
  
Castiel was sitting on the bed with one of Bobby’s books in his lap, his new cat lounging across his ankles. He looked immersed in whatever he was reading but Dean couldn’t help but wonder if he’d overheard his conversation with Inias. Most likely because of angel hearing and all that.  
  
Shrugging out of his two shirts, he made sure the door was locked and closed the ratty curtains before stretching out beside the angel. He rubbed his scruffy cheek along Castiel’s arm. “Hey. You know you don’t have to study anymore. Class is over.”  
  
Castiel smiled. “I enjoy this text.”  
  
Pain in Dean’s lower back made him hiss, and he shifted to get comfortable. “If I take my wings out will I kill your stupid cat?”  
  
Castiel laughed. “No. Animals can perceive angels in their true forms.”  
  
Dean nodded. “And I won’t hurt anyone else by taking them out?”  
  
Castiel tilted his head to the side. “Not if you cloak them so that only I can see them.”  
  
 _Meh._  “Cas, I’ve just gotten the hang of not exploding shit and even that doesn’t work all the time. How do I cloak them so only you can see them?”  
  
Closing his book and setting it aside, Castiel turned to face him, pressing a warm hand to his lower back. He massaged the flesh gently before pushing down at the base of Dean’s spine. Soothing warmth flowed out of his palm, slipping between muscle and bone to coax out Dean’s wings. Dean being Dean however…they still erupted out of his back with a low pop, raining golden feathers around the room.  
  
Feathers that Mortimer lunged at gleefully.  
  
“Ah that’s nice.” Dean moaned. “Bitches are heavy. I don’t notice them until I think about them and then I feel them.”  
  
“May I?” Castiel inquired and Dean nodded.  
  
Licking his lips, Castiel smoothed his fingers across Dean’s wings slowly, savoring the feeling of them. There was a lot Dean didn’t know about wing touching and stuff but he got the feeling it wasn’t an everyday thing. Or maybe it just wasn’t an everyday thing to someone like Castiel who’d been sorta uptight about… _everything_. It seemed he was over it thought for the most part. He patted and combed and dug his fingers into the soft feathers, smiling when Dean hummed in pleasure.  
  
Who knew wings could be so sensitive?  
  
Castiel sighed dreamily. “They are so beautiful, Dean. Like a pure representation of your soul.” He pulled one closer and rubbed his face against it, his scruff tickling. “I am honored that you are sharing them with me.”  
  
Dean peered at him before wrapping his left wing around Cas’ body, curling it, pulling Cas forward until he was pressed against his chest. “So…you like this huh? Being all wrapped up in ‘em?”  
  
Castiel’s eyes were dark and glassy. “Yes.”  
  
The hunter grinned and started pushing up Castiel’s shirt. “Why? Tell me.”  
  
Castiel blinked, looking down before ripping his t-shirt off. “I—they feel wonderful. They remind me of nice things.”  
  
Dean nuzzled his neck. “Glad I got ‘em for you to enjoy then. I can use ‘em for this instead of flying.” Pause. “Let yours out.”  
  
Castiel’s lovely white wings appeared with less fuss, flapping up and down rapidly under the heavier weight of Dean’s. He could move his better than Dean because he’d had them longer; and contrary to what he thought Dean thought the opposite. Castiel’s wings were awesome.  
  
“I can’t believe I get to touch these.” He said, cupping the wing joints and squeezing. “That I can see them whenever I want. I used to dream about them sometimes.”  
  
“Pleasant dreams?” The angel questioned, his expression saying he already knew the answer.  
  
“Yeah you little shit.”  
  
Dean growled and lowered his head, tracing his tongue slowly around Castiel’s nipple. It perked up immediately and Castiel gasped, one hand holding the back of Dean’s head while the other clutched his golden wing. Dean licked one and then the other, smiling when Castiel shivered. His skin tasted salty but clean, cleaner than anything Dean had ever tasted. It made him suck a dark bruise into Castiel’s flesh that faded away right before his eyes. And then it had him moving lower, leaning the angel back so that he could nip down his chest to his bellybutton. He sunk his teeth in enough to lightly pinch, eyes widening when Castiel full out moaned.  
  
He’d never heard of anyone with a  _sensitive navel_. Angels and their weirdness.  
  
Suddenly Castiel was wrapping his arms around Dean’s neck and kissing him passionately, his wings serving as another pair of arms to hold the hunter even closer. There was so much skin and Cas was so warm, grinding down into his lap without any real conscious effort that he was doing so. There was no finesse to it, just Cas needing something that he couldn’t put a name to but trusting Dean to give it to him. Which Dean was totally going to do as he sucked on his pink lips and drew tiny little whimpers from him.  
  
It was strange almost to discover that Castiel was hard because he would always be an angel to Dean no matter what; an angel just not interested in human bullshit. But when Dean snaked a hand down between them he found Castiel tenting his jeans. He rubbed and Castiel made a soft needy noise in the back of his throat, his wings tightening nearly to the point of pain.  
  
“Dean.” He whispered, panting against his mouth. “More.”  
  
“Fuck yeah.” Dean grunted. He made quick work of unbuttoning and unzipping both their jeans, pulling Castiel’s cock of out his black briefs first before taking out his own. He stroked Cas a little from root to tip, smearing pre come along the wet head, building up a nice slow pace that Castiel rolled his hips into. His chest was flushed red, his head tipped back so that his face was pointed up to the ceiling, his wings unable to decide if they want to keep squeezing Dean or move to Dean’s rhythm.   
  
Castiel whimpered when Dean pumped a little faster, bucking up into his tight fist. He swallowed hard and wrapped his own trembling hand around Dean’s thick erection, trying his best to mimic his actions. It made Dean groan loudly; the window panes shaking uneasily but he ignored them. He didn’t care if he blew out every damn window in the camp.  
  
For a few minutes there was just this with the slick pull of their fists filling the air. Dean’s fingers were sticky with Cas’ come but he was finding it hard to focus because Cas was damn good at playing copycat. When Cas tripped his fingertips under the head of Dean’s dick he almost lost it, gritting his teeth to rein in his control. He wanted Cas to come with him, he wanted them to come together.  
  
“Cas. Cas, ar—are you close?’ He stammered out, biting at his earlobe.   
  
Castiel looked fucken delectable with his red cheeks and bedrooms eyes, his hand whipping up and down on Dean’s cock. “I—yes. Dean—Dean please.”  
  
Dean gulped, nodding, the muscles in his stomach straining. “I got you, baby. C’mon. C’mon Cas.” He slipped his free hand into Castiel’s briefs and rolled his balls. “Come for me.”  
  
Castiel came with a loud cry and spurted across Dean’s hand, the blue of his eyes swallowed up by a brilliant white light. He held nothing back as his orgasm flowed through him, tightening his legs on either side of Dean’s thighs, his wings arching up and brushing the dusty ceiling. He looked beautiful and almost overwhelmed with pleasure as his hips continued to rock forward with tiny hitching movements.  
  
Dean was pretty much gone after that, coming so hard that he felt like it was being dragged out of him. Castiel’s name was on his lips as the angel’s hand kept caressing him, working him through it. His wings slammed back against the wall, his whole body brimming with power, a surge of energy shattering every light bulb in nearby streetlights. He felt drunk but sated as he slowly started to come down, having to pull Castiel’s fingers off him when he became too sensitive.  
  
“Holy fuck.” He murmured, groaning when Castiel licked his fingers experimentally. “Cas.” Not giving a shit about the mess, he yanked the angel into his arms and kissed his forehead. “Th—that was amazing.”  
  
Castiel snuggled against him, body vibrating. “Yes, it was.” He smiled as Dean’s wings wrapped protectively around him. “Can we do that all the time now?”  
  
Slumping to the headboard, Dean smirked. “We better.”


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter Nine  
  
Sam had a big knowing grin when he saw Dean the next day but Dean promptly ignored him and directed Inias to fix all of the busted streetlights. Chuck on the other hand looked a little disturbed and it made Dean wonder just what his dreams showed him these days. The thought of  _Chuck_  getting porn of him and Cas beamed into his head made him wanna throw up in his mouth, so he decided not to think about it. Maybe Chuck was just being  _Chuck_.  
  
Besides Dean was happy and that wasn’t something he could have ever said before. The last time he’d felt even a tiny bit of happiness had been in Heaven when he and a younger Sam had let off firecrackers. He’d been dead at the time so, yeah, talk about depressing. But now he could say it and think it and know that it was real. The world was going to Hell in a red eye infected hand basket and that was totally fucked up, but he felt okay. He felt like things in his inner circle would  _be okay_. That he had a handle on everything.  
  
Sometimes Famine’s words would echo in his ears and no matter how hard he thought otherwise, he figured they had to be true. Sure assholes like that lied but why else hadn’t he been affected by the horsemen’s power when literally everyone else had. Even Cas.  
  
 _“I can see how broken you are. How defeated. You can’t win and you know it. But you just keep fighting…just keep going through the motions. You’re not hungry Dean because inside you’re already dead.”_  
  
Fuck him. Dean Winchester was  _not_  dead inside and he was hungry like a wolf—to get corny. It was weird because he’d fucken dwelled on those words secretly to himself for a while, especially while Sam was screaming his head off in the panic room. And honestly he hadn’t seen a way around them but now—now it was almost as clear as crystal. He did eat when he was hungry, drink when he was thirsty and screw around when he had the urge; and he hadn’t felt the urge that day. He hadn’t  _needed_  anything because what he’d wanted—what he hadn’t  _let_  himself really want—was there all along.   
  
Castiel.  
  
 _It’s too early in the day to be thinking this deep. I got laid last night, why am I not focusing on that?_  
  
He didn’t realize he was grinning like an idiot and lifting large heavy white barrels full of water into the back of a truck—by himself—until he noticed a group of little kids gawking at him like he was Superman. Some things were easier to tap into nowadays such as strength and healing, even when he wasn’t paying attention. Castiel said he was just getting used to having grace leaking into his veins.  
  
“Hey.” He said to the kids. “I uh, I ate my Wheaties.”  
  
They giggled and ran off, chasing behind a bouncing basketball. Dean snorted;  _still not a care in the world. Lucky them._  
  
Wiping grits off his hand, Dean glanced over to where Castiel was nursing his garden and smiled. He looked kinda adorable tending to his seeds but Dean couldn’t help but wonder if this was the sorta life he really wanted. Stuck on Earth with a bunch of jittery people, growing vegetables and fruits instead of commanding armies or whatever. Was it a good trade off? He did look…serene. Peaceful. Maybe taking it easy after almost an eternity of killing and smiting would suit him. Not that anything would be easy anymore but compared to fighting demons, Crotes were the lesser evil.  
  
Kinda.  
  
Castiel tilted his head to the side as if he could feel someone looking at him and then their eyes met. The angel smiled and Dean smirked, wondering if they were thinking the same thing. From the way Cas’ cheeks flushed pink he figured that was an affirmative. It made him wanna go over and pin him against the first available surface and screw his brains out. It had been ages since he’d wanted a  _man_  like he wanted Cas. Usually because it was easier to pick up chicks and he didn’t have to worry about any sort of panic afterwards. And well none of them had ever raised him from perdition.  
  
“Well, well, well…” Came a sing song voice behind him. “Look at you and my little brother making eyes at each other. About damn time you both got your head out of your asses.”  
  
Dean sighed and turned around. “Gabriel. Where the hell have you been for the last few weeks?”  
  
Gabriel smiled, shrugging. “Here. There. Everywhere. Kali knows all of the best places to party. I’m trying to stay on her good side now that she knows I’m an angel. Or what passes for her good side anyway.”  
  
Dean rolled his eyes. “Uh-huh. So why pop in now? We’ve got things under control…”  
  
Gabriel folded his arms over his chest. “Just checking on my bros. Heard some of them have been jumping ship to follow you. Considering the stick that has always been lodged up Raphael’s butt I’d say it’s about time. So…how ya fairing?”  
  
 _Okay this is weird._  “You wanna know how  _I’m_  doing? Why? Always got the impression you kinda hated me.”  
  
The Archangel waved a hand. “I just liked busting your chops ‘cause it was so easy. Besides, Dean you’re chocked full of Michael and…after what happened with Lucifer maybe I’m just not in the mood to get into another bitch fit with one of my brothers.”  
  
Dean stared at him, unsettled by this side of Gabriel even though he could understand what he was saying. “You know I’m not really your brother right?”  
  
Gabriel shrugged. “Close enough.” Clapping his hands together, he slapped on a smile and gazed around. “Interesting little place you got here though. All rugged and stuff. This your idea?”  
  
Deciding to humor him since he  _had_  solved their Satan problem, Dean nodded. “Mostly, yeah. Could be worse I suppose.”  
  
Gabriel snickered. “True. Heh and I’m sure with the wing squad it’s a little easier. You know some of these dudes I don’t even  _remember_. I know that sounds bad but there were just so many and I’ve been outta Heaven for so long. Ran and never looked back until I thought all the fighting could be finally over. Oh well.”  
  
“How come you remembered Cas?”  
  
“Heh Castiel was always a little weird. Always interested in humans…”  
  
“Oh.”  
  
“Ooh don’t get jealous, Deano. You’re the only one he ever gave it all up for. He just—he made an impression.”  
  
“Can I ask you something and get a straight answer?”  
  
“You can try!”  
  
 _Geeze._  “Do you think Cas is okay doing what he is doing? Tending to a garden and shit?”  
  
Gabriel looked to the angel in question. “Why not? You know I left because of all the politics. I joined up with the Pagans because at the time they were having a weird sort of harmony.” Pause. “When you’ve been in battle as long as we have there does come a point when you do just wanna rest. Do all angels want that? No. But they don’t know any better. Castiel does. And these ones you got following you around like lost puppies? I think they’ll get it eventually too.”  
  
Dean couldn’t help but smirk because at that moment Rachel walked by with Chuck following her; in her hands a fat yellow Twinkie. She appeared to be actually considering eating it. “Heh yeah. As long as they’re not itching for war or whatever. I mean I know we’re gonna have trouble but I hope those times are few and far between.”  
  
Gabriel slapped him on the shoulder. “I don’t think they are itching for war. And I especially think Castiel is happy. I’d say I don’t get it but for as strange as humans can be, you guys had a few good ideas. Ice cream for one…and sex swings.”  
  
Dean laughed. He was beyond surprised that they were having such a civil conversation. “Can’t believe I’m saying this but you actually made me feel better.”  
  
Gabriel sent him a  _look_. “Yeah yeah. We’re brothers now Deano. For the most part. You uh—I know you didn’t wanna be in charge of saving the world or anything but you seem to be doing a good job. You’re a leader, Dean, a General and that was without Michael’s grace. Anyway I just wanted to check in and see if everyone was still alive. I  _guess_  if you need me you can call me. But don’t abuse it okay?”  
  
Dean grinned. “Sure. Thanks, Gabriel.”  
  
Saluting him, Gabriel winked and disappeared.  
  
Dragging a hand through his dirty blonde hair, Dean exhaled slowly. It was odd to think that Gabriel had his back but then again things had been odd for most of his life. Besides it was way better than being shoved into reruns of Doctor Sexy.  
  
Spying Sam over by the electric fence they were trying to get set up around the entire camp, he strolled over. “Hey. How’s it going?”  
  
Sam cleared his throat and motioned to the three men currently helping. “Pretty good. I know we could have got Inias to snap it down but a couple of the guys wanted to help. Pitch in, ya know?” Dean nodded and he continued, “Was that Gabriel I saw you talking to?”  
  
Dean licked his lips. “Yup. He was…nice. Guess Kali’s been keeping him satisfied if you know what I mean.”  
  
Sam cracked a smile. “Uh yeah. But hey that’s good. I’ll take that over eternal Tuesdays.”   
  
Dean didn’t remember any of that—dying over a hundred times—but he could see the  _Trickster_  pulling that crap. “I think I’m gonna go to Bobby’s and see if they place is still standing. Wanna tag along?”  
  
Sam nodded. “Okay. I was wondering when you were gonna get cabin fever and wanna take the Impala for a spin. Think we’ll run into any trouble? Roadblocks and stuff?”  
  
It was a possibility. “I hope not but if we do I’ll just pop us back here. Might take a few but it would happen eventually.”  
  
His brother chuckled. “I have faith in you, Dean. I mean you seem to have the art of blowing light bulbs down to an art.”  
  
“You’re just mad you and Sarah aren’t blowing light bulbs yet.” Dean wiggled his brows. “I bet if her dad has anything to say about it you never will.”  
  
“Shut up, Dean.” Sam ducked his head but he was smiling. “Mr. Blake is glad that we managed to save them. Now that he knows what we really do he’s not so stuck up anymore.”  
  
“Hard to be stuck up when you’re living in a kiddie cabin.” Dean mused. “But that’s cool. Whatever keeps the peace.”  
  
“Boys!” Bobby stepped out onto the small porch of his  _home_. “We’ve got a visitor.”  
  
Dean grunted and waited for Sam to put down his hammer before walking with him to Bobby’s cabin. Inside neither of them were shocked to find Crowley perched on a table, looking around distastefully. “Ah boys,” he said as they entered. “Long time no see. Happy you still appear to be in one piece.”  
  
Sam leaned against the wall. “And what have you been up to?”  
  
The demon blinked at him. “I’ve taken my business international while it’s still possible. I have missed out on quite a few deals however from those that want me to return things to the way they used to be. Or to cure infected family members. You two chuckleheads are slowly driving me out of business.”  
  
Dean rolled his eyes. “Yeah we’re real sorry about that. By the way, you make any deals here and you’re getting a one way ticket back to Hell.”  
  
Crowley clasped his hands together in his lap. “Right. Well there are a few bright spots for you lot. Word has it the infected are so rabid that they are driving monsters into hiding. Apparently they’ll eat or beat anything in sight. Demons have even taken to laying low.”  
  
 _I bet if Lucifer was still alive they’d be flocking around him for protection._  “Small silver lining I guess.”  
  
Crowley grinned. “Whatever helps you get into bed at night. Speaking of beds…” He turned to Bobby. “I hear a cute little Sheriff has been sharing yours. And here I thought our newfound camaraderie meant something.”  
  
Bobby flushed, flustered. “Blow it out your ass, idjit.”   
  
Crowley pretended to be offended. “Well I can see when I’m not wanted. Though the fact that I can get in here at all must mean I am. Thanks for that, chaps. Never know when I might need to escape the big bad world.”  
  
Sam’s brows drew together. “What’s it like out there? We’ve been sending the angels to help people so we haven’t checked.”  
  
Crowley shrugged. “It is what you would expect I suppose. Some areas have been decimated by Crotes and those that haven’t are in complete lock down. I  _think_  they have realized it’s in the blood but as you well know, that can’t be detected until it’s too late. It’s spreading fast—more are infected than first realized—and the lovely humans are becoming antsy. Gun sales have gone up.”  
  
Dean smoothed a hand across his face. Great; that was just what they needed. Red eyed nut jobs and assholes acting like John Wayne. Yeah they totally had the right to protect themselves but yeesh, did no one get how wrong things could go? How many innocent people would probably die because of some trigger happy ass hat that couldn’t tell the difference between pink eye and a Crote?  
  
Sam pursed his lips together. “Do you know how many states have reported infected?”  
  
Crowley made a face. “Who do I look like? Diane Sawyer? Let’s just say it would take a pretty big sponge to suck up this mess. I wouldn’t get my hopes up that it won’t spread to other countries eventually.”  
  
Bobby snorted. “We sailed that boat a long time ago. Right now we’re just tryin’ to survive. Other hunters are fairing about as good as we have thanks to the angels. They don’t trust ‘em much but they know I’d never steer ‘em wrong. Try not to anyways.” A beat. “Guess all we can do is keep doing what we’re doing. Soon those bastards will outnumber us.”  
  
It was a scary thought but a reality that Dean knew they were facing. Snuffing out those already infected worked but it wasn’t a long term fix. There was no long term fix…not yet anyway. “Well, smoke ‘em if you got ‘em.”  
  
Grinning, Crowley pulled several Cuban cigars out of his pocket. “I could drink to that. Bobby?”  
  
Bobby groaned but shuffled towards one of his many boxes to look for his booze. Dean shook his head and exited the cabin with Sam behind him, both brothers sullen at the news they’d just received. However as usual Sam tried to look on the bright side. “Least we’re helping those we can. It’s what we’ve always done. We can’t save everyone…”  
  
 _I wish we could._  “Yeah, I know Sammy. Doesn’t make me feel any better though.”  
  
Sam patted his shoulder. “Me either. But I think we should take a win where we can get it. And things could always change. We don’t know much about the virus except that it’s demon based. We might find a way to destroy it.”  
  
Dean really, really wanted to believe that. “Keep hope alive I suppose. And if there is anything left of the world by then maybe it’ll get back on track. At least food wise anyway. Hey we could open our own Biggersons.”  
  
His brother chuckled lowly. “You know I wasn’t supposed to tell you this but I’m pretty sure Cas is gonna try to grow an apple tree.”  
  
Green eyes widened. “For pie?”  
  
Sam laughed. “For apple stuff but yes, pie is included if you can find the other stuff.”  
  
“I’ll teleport to Germany for it if I have to. Maybe we should stock up. Not like we can’t use everything we can get our hands on.”  
  
“At least you have your priorities in order.”  
  
“Oh shut up! I might get pie! Having pie  _is_  a priority so…yeah. Whatever. Shut up.”  
  
~*~  
  
The hair on the back of Castiel’s neck prickled whenever a demon was near, his nostrils burning with the smell of sulfur. His first response was to call for his angel sword until he realized it was most likely Crowley because the brothers and Bobby would never allow any other demon into the camp. Dean hadn’t been happy with letting Crowley in but Bobby thought it would be a good idea to keep abreast of the actions of other demons. Castiel imagined they were panicking like everyone else. Yes they couldn’t be infected but what fun was a world without humans or Lucifer?  
  
Earlier he had seen Gabriel talking to Dean; felt the hum of Gabriel’s power washing over him and been honestly surprised to see him there at all. From what he knew about Gabriel he wasn’t a team player—at least where their team was concerned. But he remembered that Gabriel and Michael had been close once upon a time. Castiel could understand Gabriel needing more of a connection especially after defeating Lucifer. It’s one of the reasons he was so happy to have Inias, Balthazar and the others back into his life. Being with Dean was amazing and he wouldn’t change  _anything_  about it, but it was nice having some of his brothers and sisters around as well.  
  
Even annoying ones like Gabriel…if he chose to continue coming around.  
  
Castiel was content. Being an angel there was a certain serenity involved because you were supposed to constantly feel God’s love no matter where you were or the fact that you’d never seen him before. And for millennia he’d felt that love—or at least an approximation of that love—that was all based around faith. Even now he believed in God and God’s wisdom and mercy, but  _human love_  was so vastly different. Many angels turned up their noses at humans, thinking they were lesser creatures, never realizing what they were missing. Never realizing that base mortal affection could be so…overwhelming.  
  
So comforting.  
  
The Host’s love was cold and while it had sustained him for most of his unnatural life, it didn’t compare to the feeling of lying in Dean’s warm arms. Of being touched by him and kissed by him, of being  _shown_ how important he was and how much he was cared for. The angels would probably say  _but he’s so small_  and perhaps in the grand scheme of things he was small. But Dean loved fiercely and blisteringly; a love that could fuel stars.  
  
 _I would never say this to him of course. He would become extremely uncomfortable. Well maybe I would say it and simply deal with the eye rolls._  
  
He didn’t know if Dean loved him but he was alright assuming and there was nothing to point to his assumptions being wrong. Their interlude the previous night had been wonderful. Castiel had always viewed sex as a means to procreation even though he knew it was also had for pleasure. It had just never really interested him, or rather engaging in it with the other angels had never interested him. Neither had performing the act with Chastity but he supposed he would have done it out of curiosity more than anything else.  
  
Yet now he was glad that Dean was going to be the one to help him with his sexual awakening. It made sense for it to be Dean. He  _wanted_  it to be Dean. Why bother with anyone else? He already knew that he…loved Dean. Rebelling to help humanity because it was the right thing to do was one thing, but he wouldn’t have done it for anyone other than Dean.  
  
A shadow fell across him and he looked up to see Sam’s new female friend standing near with a small greeting smile on her pretty face. “Hello. I um, I’m Sarah.”  
  
“Hello Sarah.” He replied. “I’m Castiel.”  
  
Hesitantly she joined him on the steps where he sat. “Sam filled me in last night on everything that is going on. Pretty hard to believe but I’ve seen a painting come to life and try to kill me so…I wasn’t difficult to convince. I just um—out of all of this I find  _you_  and your friends to be the oddest. Not in a bad way but it’s not every day one gets to meet an angel.”  
  
He hummed. “And yet you’ve met two.”  
  
She grinned. “Yes I have. And it’s weird but kinda cool too. It’s nice to know there really  _is_  someone out there looking out for us. Besides the Winchesters.” She picked at her slightly dirty nails. “I hope you don’t mind me coming over.”  
  
He shook his head, blue eyes calm. “No I do not mind. Some here seem to be unnerved by me—because of what I am—so it’s nice when someone wants to start a conversation. Dean spoke quite highly of you.”  
  
Sarah smirked cheekily. “That’s good. I can still remember the first time I met him and Sam. They stood out like sore thumbs in my dad’s auction house; I kinda thought they were drifters or something. Sam was all floppy haired…like a puppy. And Dean was sorta cocky and shoving food into his mouth.” Castiel laughed and she continued, “But they saved my life and so many others. I always wondered what happened to them. Hoped they were okay.”  
  
Castiel glanced to Bobby’s cabin. “They saved the world.”  
  
“Yeah.” She said softly. “And they’re still doing it. I wanna help however I can. I doubt I could be a good hunter but maybe I could make stuff.”  
  
“You’re welcomed to help me with my garden, if you wish.” He suggested. “Or you could help Chuck with keeping track of supplies.”  
  
“I think I’ll try both.” She tucked strands of dark hair behind her ear. “I’d cook but, well, I don’t wanna kill anybody.”  
  
Thankfully he realized she was joking. “The angels could just bring them back.”  
  
Sarah chuckled. “Good to know.” Pause. “Heh you know Sam refers to you as  _Dean’s angel, Cas_.”  
  
He arched a brow. “That would be an accurate description.”  
  
She bit her bottom lip, clearly thinking something that amused her. “I like Dean so I’m happy he has someone.”  
  
Castiel gave her his patented head tilt. “Dean is happy that Sam now apparently has you as well. He says you should marry.”  
  
The apples of her cheeks went pink but she couldn’t stop smiling. “Haa I don’t know about all that. But I am looking forward to getting to know Sam again. He’s changed a lot since we last saw each other.”  
  
 _More than you know._  “Yes. I have come to find that he is a good person however. He is my friend.”  
  
Sarah and Castiel talked for a while longer about inane subjects and what the future held before Sam made his way over, offering to show her around. Castiel watched them interact and while reading body language wasn’t a skill he excelled at, even he could tell there was a mutual attraction between them. Perhaps it had dampened or been forgotten over the years but he could understand quite easily how it could flare up again. Sarah had a very kind, understanding soul—he could see why Sam liked her.  
  
Though it was amusing that Dean’s pleasure of their attraction seemed to come from all the teasing he could subject his little brother to.  
  
But that was  _Dean_. And none of them would have him any other way.  
  
~*~  
  
It was late when Dean returned to their home, shrugging off his jacket and hanging it up onto a stray nail by the door. His jeans were dusty with dirt, his boots caked with dried mud and his hands blackened with grease but he looked to be in high spirits. Castiel sat on the edge of their bed with Mortimer beside him, idly running his fingers through his fur while Dean chucked off his shoes and removed his shirt.  
  
“Sam thinks we might need another well.” He said as he filled a round tin with luke warm water. “I wonder if we got Inias to steal us a water tower would anyone notice. Heh probably not with the way things are going.”  
  
Castiel was happy that Dean seemed to be more accepting of his brothers and sisters. “He would dig you a well if you asked.”  
  
Dean washed his hands and then grabbed up a cloth, dipping it in the water so that he could scrub away the grime. “I know but I don’t want them thinking I am taking them for granted.” Pause. “Or using them as a tool.”  
  
Castiel watched Dean take off his jeans and toss them into a chair, stretching his arms up towards the ceiling. He’d never thought much about the human physique but he could appreciate the beauty in Dean’s body. It was such a contrast to others that lived his sort of lifestyle of fast food and alcohol. The muscles were defined, his toned buttocks and thighs leading down to strong legs. Castiel could remembered the state his body had been in before he’d healed it—before he’d coaxed it back together with tendrils of his own grace. He had taken great care in getting everything right though at the time he’d assumed it was because that was his duty. Now? Well now he could perhaps admit it was because he wanted others to value his work.  
  
“You are very beautiful, Dean.” He whispered. “Inside and outside.”  
  
Dean grinned lazily, now magnificently naked and not a bit ashamed by it. “You think so?” He dropped his washcloth back into the water and strolled over, cupping Castiel’s face with his warm hand. “Normally that would make me roll my eyes but since you’ve seen me when I was near to growing horns I’ll let it slide ‘cause I know you’re just being honest.”  
  
Castiel gazed up at him. “I am. I—your appearance is very pleasing to me.”  
  
Dean pulled him up and wrapped his arms around his waist. “You’re appearance is very pleasing to me too. I know you’re in a vessel but you’re fucken gorgeous, Cas. And I mean the you in there too. I’ve got enough glimpses to know.”  
  
Castiel wet his lips, pleased by the compliment. “Now that you are immune perhaps I can show you my true form one day. Completely. I would like to.”  
  
Dean nodded. “I’d like you to.” His hands fell to Castiel’s jeans, popping the button loose and pulling down the zipper. “You know you’re kinda giving me the eyes right now.”  
  
 _Eyes?_  And then he remembered something Dean had said to him while in the panic room. “You mean I am looking at you like I wish to  _get laid_?”  
  
Dean laughed. “Actually yeah.” Smirking, he started pushing up Castiel’s t-shirt. “We can do what we did the other night if you want. I’m gonna become that guy with a crazy wing fetish but I don’t care.”  
  
Dutifully Castiel lifted his arms so that Dean could remove his shirt. He wiggled his fingers before plastering his hand to the handprint he’d given Dean, loving how it fit. He’d never thought of it as a brand of ownership before but now he could understand how it could be such. “Dean…”  
  
Dean’s expression softened and he carded his fingers through Castiel’s hair, pressing their foreheads together. Castiel melted against him, not even minding that the hunter’s erection was poking him in the stomach, smearing liquid across his heated skin. It was an odd sensation but he liked it—liked everything about Dean.  _Loved_  everything about Dean from his stubbornness to his ability to always beat the odds. “Dean…” He swallowed hard, the words stuck in his throat because he didn’t know how his friend would take hearing them. They were important words.  
  
“Yeah Cas?” Dean inquired softly. He pushed the angel’s jeans down off his hips to his feet. “You still with me?”  
  
“I am with you.” Castiel kicked the garment away. “I will always be with you. I chose you.”  
  
“I know.” He said, nuzzling his neck. “And sometimes it scares the fuck outta me but I wouldn’t change it. You’re—fuck—besides saving Sam you’re the only good thing to come outta making that deal. I got my brother back and a best friend.”  
  
“And I found a true home.” Castiel wrapped his arms around Dean’s neck and kissed him before he could say anything else. Before he could make a silly joke to diffuse the moment they were having.  
  
There was a fire burning hot in his belly; a  _want_  he’d experienced for the first time with Dean last night but stronger. He knew it was arousal and he liked the feeling of it, felt no shame in pulling Dean towards the bed as Dean’s tongue swept across his bottom lip. They tumbled onto it with Dean on top of him, running his hands up and down Castiel’s sides, hooking his thumbs under his briefs and dragging them down his squirming legs.  
  
Castiel pushed Dean onto his back so that he could look at him again, rolling his eyes at Dean’s cocky little wink. He went with his urge to touch Dean, smoothing a hand down his chest and across his stomach, feeling the fine hairs there. His lips itched to taste Dean’s skin so he did. He leaned down slowly and kissed his neck, smiling when Dean’s pulse quickened, dragging his lips across his collar bone and down to his left nipple.  
  
He could feel the hunter’s green eyes staring at him like a hawk as he flicked his tongue against it. Heard his low groan of approval when he licked—slowly—before sucking it into his mouth like Dean had done to him. He wondered if Dean felt the same things he had and knew he did when Dean attempted to pull him closer. Castiel smiled to himself, oddly proud, and switched to the other nipple giving it the same treatment until it was just as hard as the first.  
  
Dean’s skin tasted clean and salty and just…like  _Dean_. It was flushed and drawn tight, catching the faint glow from the only burning lamp in the room. And even though he knew somewhere underneath that skin was Michael’s grace, he couldn’t detect it; it wasn’t there in the softness or warmth. Castiel was happy about that—that this moment was only between him and Dean.  
  
Continuing to explore Dean, Castiel bit and nipped downward until he was rubbing the stubble of his cheeks against Dean’s twitching thighs. He’d never performed oral sex before or had it performed to him but that didn’t stop him from closing his lips around Dean’s straining cock a split second later, feeling the deep shiver that overtook Dean’s body. He cursed and threaded his fingers into Castiel’s dark hair, his eyes blown wide with lust. He looked amazing like this and Castiel wanted to see more.   
  
“Fuck Cas.” He gasped. “No—no teeth…” Castiel hummed to show he understood and Dean moaned, his head hitting the pillow with a low thump. “Shit. Mo—move your head up and down…”  
  
Castiel did as he asked, slowly bobbing his head up and down, letting Dean’s thick cock slip in and out of his wet mouth. Dean’s thighs were trembling, his hips hitching up a little and Castiel could tell he was being attentive to his comfort. Making sure not to choke him as he chased his own pleasure.  
  
In all honesty Castiel wasn’t sure if he was doing it right or enough but it didn’t seem to matter to Dean either way. He was obviously enjoying himself and Castiel was enjoying watching him and having him in his mouth. He continued his motions, speeding up more when it occurred to him that Dean might like it, which he did. He sunk down particularly low and Dean grunted, his fingers tightening in Castiel’s hair once before he pulled Castiel off him completely.  
  
“Did I do something wrong?” Castiel asked, lips red and voice wrecked.  
  
Dean growled and Castiel suddenly found himself on his back, legs spread wide so that Dean could fit between them. “No but I didn’t wanna come yet.”  
  
Castiel nodded, tracing his cheek. “Was that alright?”  
  
Dean smiled. “That was awesome.” Reaching between them, he fisted Castiel’s dick and Castiel shuddered, heels digging into the mattress. “Think you could stand it if I did it to you?”  
  
“I—I’ll try.” He stammered jerking as Dean squeezed him. “Dean, please…”  
  
The hunter pressed a hard kiss to his mouth before slinking down his body, sucking him in without preamble. Castiel couldn’t control himself and cried out loudly, his stomach muscles clenching at the unfamiliar yet wonderful sensations coursing through his body. Dean’s mouth felt heavenly around him, hot and wet and perfect. He wanted to move, to push up to get more but Dean held him down and mimicked his earlier actions, stroking his tongue along the slit on top until Castiel was gasping for air.  
  
How could something so simple feel so incredible?  
  
“Dean, Dean…” He chanted as he pulled at Dean’s short hair. “Oh, Dean, please…” There was a pressure building up inside of him, one he recognized from the night before. One he wished he could yank closer until it filled his entire body and exploded within him.  
  
Dean pulled away with a slick pop and Castiel whined, making him chuckle. “Don’t worry Cas. I got you. Turn over for me, sweetheart.”  
  
Smoothly Castiel did so, looking back at him. “Dean, are we going to have sex?”  
  
The hunter kissed up and down his spine. “If you want to.”  
  
“I do. Do you?”  
  
“Hell yeah I do.”  
  
“Then we should. I want you, Dean.”  
  
Dean met his gaze for a minute before kissing his right buttock and slipping off the bed. As he rummaged in his duffle Castiel tried to calm his tingling nerves. He wasn’t certain whether they were from nervousness or excitement or perhaps a mixture of both. He just knew this felt right. Shifting, he rubbed his erection against the scratchy sheet for a little friction, panting into the pillow when pleasure rocketed up his spine. Dean returned quickly and draped over him, sucking on his earlobe as wet fingertips disappeared between his cheeks. It was an altogether strange yet pleasing sensation that only grew more so as one finger and then two gently coaxed him open. Thrusting in and out until he was pushing back against them for stimulation.  
  
And then Dean’s fingers shifted and Castiel moaned loudly, desperately, bucking back for more.  
  
Because Dean could be evilly playful he continued his delicious torture for a while longer and Castiel thought he would die from how good it felt. He murmured as much and Dean laughed, kissing his sweaty shoulder before removing his fingers and gripping Castiel’s hips instead, moving him onto his hands and knees. The moment they joined—that Dean pushed into him—Castiel whimpered and unfurled his wings, face planting against the bed with bliss.  
  
“ _Dean_ …” He whispered brokenly.  
  
Dean groped at his feathers and thrust into him slowly. He coaxed Castiel to catch his rhythm and together they moved. It was unlike anything Castiel had ever experienced before, having Dean so deep inside of him. He hadn’t known it was possible to miss something you’d never had but he’d somehow missed  _this_. Missed it so terribly that he never wanted it to end.  
  
His wings were sagging on either side of him, his thighs trembling as he panted into the warm air. Strands of dark damp hair stuck to his forehead and all he could focus on was Dean.   
  
Dean who bruised his hips with marks that faded within seconds.  
  
Dean who pushed in even deeper so that he could dip forward and kiss at the back of Castiel’s neck affectionately.  
  
Dean who was mumbling low dirty words of encouragement as he started to move a little faster, brushing his face against Castiel’s white wings.  
  
“Fuck, Cas. So fucken hot— _mine_ …” He gave a little tug and they both straightened with Castiel sitting in his lap. The new position made them both moan and Castiel was vaguely aware of the fireplace jumping to life. They could be so dangerous together if they wanted to be.  
  
“Dean.” Castiel turned his face to the side and blindly sought Dean’s mouth, half kissing and half whimpering against it. He was close.  
  
Dean grunted as he pounded into him, as he rolled his hips and clutched at his wings. His free hand wrapped around Castiel’s cock and Castiel cried out, falling over the edge and into his orgasm after only a few quick strokes. He shook with the magnitude of it, feeling it flow throughout his entire body and out the tips of his toes like a high tide washing away the shore. It felt him breathless and vulnerable but he wasn’t ready to stop; growing overly sensitive but still welcoming the feeling of Dean’s now sticky hand as it continued to jerk him off.  
  
Right before Dean came he eased Castiel back onto his knees and just thrust over and over again, head thrown back in ecstasy as he chased and finally captured his own release, golden wings spread wide. He shouted Castiel’s name and the clouds rumbled before opening up, letting loose a sudden downpour that soaked everything.   
  
For a few blissful seconds there was nothing but the sound of the rain and their attempts to catch their breath. Castiel flopped right where Dean released him, smiling when the hunter dropped down beside him with a goofy, sated grin. He rested his head to his arms and exhaled, feeling sleepy for the first time ever, knowing that if he did allow himself to doze off he’d have very pleasant dreams.  
  
Dean groaned and rolled towards him, ducking under his right wing to kiss his nose. All he could feel were soft feathers. “You okay?”  
  
Castiel blinked at him. “Very much so. You—you are very good at that.”  
  
Dean chuckled, batting his own wing out of the way. “You’re not so bad yourself.” A beat. “It’s raining really hard. Shit, did I do that?”  
  
Castiel laughed lightly. “Dean I—I…” He wet his lips, needing to say the words. “I just want you to know that I love you. I assume you already suspect it due to the nature of our relationship but know your assumptions are correct.”  
  
Dean’s brows furrowed and he looked away. He sighed before hesitatingly meeting Castiel’s eyes. “For what it’s worth—which it being me but, never mind—for what it’s worth…I…love you too. And I’m not just saying it ‘cause you did. Just don’t expect me to say it all the time or whatever.”  
  
The angel touched his shoulder. “I don’t need you to say it, Dean. Just continue to look at me the way you are looking at me right now and I’ll always know.”  
  
Dean blushed but didn’t look away.


	10. Chapter 10

Chapter Ten  
  
Ditching chicks right after sex or close to after sex meant that there wasn’t a lot of cuddling going on even though Dean considered himself a tactile person. He enjoyed touch—when it wasn’t painful—but usually kept shit like that to himself because John Winchester wouldn’t have approved. He’d stopped being the hugging type of father a few years after the fire, only doling them out when one of them didn’t die in some attack. Now it was just second nature for Dean to do the same.  
  
Still there was something comforting when it came to waking up after a night of amazing sex to a warm body snuggled close. Castiel was wrapped around him like a vine, his face pressed against the skin of Dean’s throat, his left wing serving as another fluffy blanket. Their legs were kinda tangled together and as far as Dean could tell, things were calm outside. There was no need to sneak outta bed and get dressed outside the door with a bitch facing Sam already waiting in the Impala. He could just relax and play with the feathers he couldn’t seem to get enough of. They were soft and smelled good!  
  
Yawning, he ran his fingers through the angel’s soft dark hair and peeped at his face. He appeared to be sleeping but Dean wasn’t too sure. Out of the few things Cas had accepted about himself when it came to his dwindling powers, sleeping had not been one of them. Dean sorta got the feeling he was nervous about it; about giving up the security of always being alert and trusting four bedroom walls to protect him incase anything happened. It was probably the worst type of hindering but Dean never pressed him on it. As far as he was concerned Cas could fight sleep for as long as he wanted. Dean would gladly keep grace sharing with him if it helped.  
  
Besides it wasn’t like he was suddenly embracing the side of his powers that would keep him awake forever and never hungry.  
  
Dean couldn’t really believe the direction his life had taken, and he just didn’t mean being in bed with a fallen angel. Back when he used to hunt it was clear that it was more than a job to him. He was pretty sure that if Sam had went back to school after the yellow eyed demon was dead—and there’d been no deal—he would have just kept on with the family business of trying to save people. It was weird to say but hunting made him happy, and he was damn good at it. He would have gunned his baby down highway after highway, burning bones and keeping idiot teens from going into haunted houses.  
  
They only difference was that he would have been doing it all alone.  
  
Life would have been a damn sight simpler but picturing days and nights not even knowing Castiel existed didn’t sit right with him. Sam would have eventually met someone else and became a big shot lawyer, and even if their relationship were totally okay he still would have been on the outside looking in. Thinking random hook ups were the way to go because he’d never really had anything else; nothing like what he had with Cas anyway. He couldn’t imagine not knowing Cas. He couldn’t imagine not having some little half nerdy dude with a killer right hook watching his back, giving a disapproving frown to things he didn’t understand.  
  
Mary had always said to him “angels are watching over you”. He couldn’t help but wonder what she thought of everything now. Would she support their relationship? Or was she just happy that he was happy? A part of him wished he could find out while the other was okay with guessing.  
  
Digging the sleep out of his eyes, he brushed his lips across Castiel’s forehead. After the talk with Crowley he’d turned his attention to helping with camp duties so he and Sam had not gotten a chance to go out for the sake of going out. Maybe today he could check out Bobby’s; there were still things at his house they needed to salvage. Panic room stuff. Either way he just  _needed_  to see the state of the world.  
  
Maybe pick up some condoms for Sam.  
  
That thought made him chuckle lowly and he glanced down as Castiel smoothed a hand across his stomach. “Mornin’.”  
  
“Good morning, Dean.” Castiel murmured. “Did you sleep well?”  
  
Dean grinned. “Best night’s sleep I’ve had in a long time.”  
  
Castiel kissed his chin and cuddled closer, idly brushing a hand across the hunter’s nipples. “Good. This is nice.”  
  
Dean nodded. “Yeah it is, isn’t it? Not something you did a lot in Heaven huh?”  
  
Castiel shook his head slowly. “No. Other angels spent time together in which they would groom each others’ wings but it was nothing like this. The intimacy was missing.”  
  
 _Not surprising to hear._  “Even with the wing stuff?”  
  
Castiel traced a finger along Dean’s tattoo. “It was simply to remove debris and keep them manageable. I much prefer when you touch them.”  
  
Dean smirked, diggings his fingers into the mass of feathers lying across him. “I prefer it too. I feel like I should be ashamed because I’m so into them but I’m not.”  
  
Castiel chuckled and purred at the attention. “I see no reason for you to be ashamed, Dean. I am happy that they not only bring you comfort but also excite you.”  
  
His words made Dean blush. “Heh, that makes me sound like a pervert. But I guess it’s no worse than liking Busty Asian Beauties. Dude can you imagine if like they had angel wing magazines? Like Hot Feathers or Sexy Wing Sluts? I’d be so into them.” Pause. “Still I kinda like that this is  _our_  thing.”  
  
Castiel arched a brow. “You are a complex individual.”  
  
Laughing, Dean gently eased Castiel to the side and sat up, scrubbing a hand through his wild hair. He jerked, startled at his own wings drooping close and tried to play it off. “Never gonna get used to having my own set.”  
  
Castiel pushed his feathers back into order. “You may eventually. I wish you would let me teach you how to fly.”  
  
“Ooh no.” He said. “Teleporting is one thing—I can do that. Flying? No way. Being strapped inside of a giant mental death machine is bad enough but flittering around with just these? No seat belt or anything?”  
  
“I’d never let you fall.” Castiel replied sincerely. “The freedom is unimaginable however. Feeling the elements…being able to cross great distances and travel to worlds where no man has ever been...”  
  
Dean could read between the lines of Cas’ words; aka that losing his wings would rob him of something very dear. Even though he didn’t flutter around like he used to at least he still had the option. “Maybe I’ll let you give me a trial run. Once.” He glanced out the window and then said screw it, rolling over on top of Castiel and nuzzling him.  
  
Castiel raked his nails down Dean’s back, locking his heels around his thighs. “This is violating your personal space rule.”  
  
Dean snickered, nipping at his neck. “You hear me complaining though? Some rules are made to be broken.”  
  
Castiel hummed happily. “I see. What are others?”  
  
“Hm. Sometimes it’s okay to have dessert before dinner, especially if it’s pie.” He found a spot on Cas’ throat he liked and sucked, grinning when the angel arched against him. “I pretty much make and break ‘em as I go along.”  
  
“Of course…” Castiel said breathlessly.   
  
Dean sniggered and lifted up onto his elbows, poking his nose against Castiel’s cheek. “You okay with that?”  
  
Castiel touched his handprint. “Yes. I did break several rules for you after all.”  
  
Dean mock glared at him. “But look at this awesome reward you have on top of you right now.”  
  
The angel chuckled. “It is very nice.” He rubbed at the hunter’s scruff. “Thank you.”  
  
“You’re such a sap, Cas.”  
  
“I could punch you if it would make the moment less uncomfortable.”  
  
“Nah, it might just turn me on. Speaking of which…” He wiggled his brows and slid a hand down Castiel’s chest. “How about I teach you the joys of morning sex?”  
  
“I would like that very much.” Castiel whispered with a hint of a tiny grin.  
  
~*~  
  
It felt freaken awesome to be on the road again, to have the Impala roaring all around him. True it wasn’t the same as when he could go anywhere or pull up to a drive thru and order way too much greasy food, but it was still nice to be driving his baby again. Sam had opted to stay behind with Sarah—not that Dean was at all surprised by that—so naturally Castiel had agreed to go with him. Dean couldn’t help but think this is how life would be if the world was normal. If Sam got married and wanted to settle down, quit hunting. It made him a little sad to be honest—just the thought of it—but it wouldn’t have been so bad. As long as everyone was happy.  
  
Anyway though their trip wasn’t important; just Dean needing to stretch his legs and get a look at things. See if Crowley was being truthful or just pulling their leg to keep them isolated so he could play around. Yeah he kinda got that was wishful thinking.   
  
Bobby’s house was still standing when they reached it; hadn’t even been looted yet. The area was quiet with no army guys around barking orders or setting up road blocks. Dean wagered either nothing had happened here yet or people had moved on when things on the news started getting a little too real. It was odd to think of a town as deserted like in the movies but he figured it was better than the alternative. Let people run wherever they wanted for as long as they could until they angels could get to them. It made no sense for the government to try to intervene. Packing everyone up like sardines with nothing but guns wouldn’t do them any good. Especially if one, just one, of the survivors was already infected.  
  
Driving the Impala was probably a gamble because it was such a well known car among the fucked up but Dean would have rather bitten off his own foot than driven anything else. The trunk was nice and wide so they could fit in anything they needed though. Except the panic room which was a bummer.  
  
They didn’t dawdle however. Castiel helped him load up boxes of anything and everything from pots and pans to lamps. They could always use more lamps. He cleaned out drawers full of obscure books Bobby had forgot and left Castiel to get a few vintage records while he went outside and siphoned gas from some of the wrecked vehicles. He kept a wary lookout for anything strange or ravenous, getting the feeling of déjà vu from when zombies had attacked him and Bobby.  
  
 _I wonder if Death could stop the Crotes? There’s gotta be a way to contact him, not that I wanna. If he’s anything like his brothers he’d just be a major douche and make things worse._  
  
Shaking his head, he placed the small red can of gas into the trunk beside the others and snapped it shut, pulling a bottle of whiskey out of the backseat. He took a big gulp and swished it around in his mouth to get rid of the gasoline taste, spitting it off to the side. “Ah. Woo.”  
  
Castiel walked out of the house with an armful of plates. “Do we have everything?”  
  
Dean tossed the bottle back into the car. “I think so. This trip was more just to get out really but no sense leaving this stuff when we can use it.”  
  
Castiel nodded, slowly placing the plates into the large foot wells. “Bobby will be happy to know his house is still in good condition. Though I am sensing an atmospheric disturbance about fifteen miles from here.”  
  
Dean snickered.  _How can he think he’s not still kick ass? Even half an angel he’s better at it then I am._  “Guess we should get back on the road then.”  
  
The angel opened the passenger side door. “Animals are running. I would not be surprised if there are more around the camp since it is a safe area.”  
  
Dean arched a brow as he climbed behind the wheel. “Like deer? Or are we talking giant rats?”  
  
“Everything.”  
  
“Heh that should be interesting.”  
  
Starting up, he pulled away from Bobby’s old paint peeling house, drifting back onto the highway. He’d traveled this road so much without giving it any real thought; Sammy riding shotgun almost every time. It had never occurred to him that one day he probably wouldn’t be able to. Not even when he was headed to Hell. One day things would be too fucked up to just go out and look around. The Crotes would come to outnumber them and something as simple as getting food would be a life or death situation. Fuck it kinda already was in some parts.  
  
He’d get Inias to go with them then. Extra fire power until he could control his own wouldn’t hurt.  
  
Castiel shifted to face him. “Are you alright? You look pensive.”  
  
The hunter shrugged. “Just thinking about what we’re really in for I guess. I don’t think it’s hit me that we’re fucked. I mean things aren’t totally wrecked yet—not like they were in my future trip.” Pause. “Ridin’ along and everything is quiet; easy to get fooled.”  
  
Castiel glanced out the windshield. “If you look hard enough you can see the differences. The air smells different. Sour. The birds aren’t singing. The insects are migrating.”  
  
Dean cut his eyes to him. “So you’re saying things are  _too_  quiet? Makes sense. I can handle the bullshit though. Future me did it for four or five years. Figure I’ve got just as long in me.”  
  
Castiel squeezed his thigh. “Longer because you are not alone. I will help you in any way that I can, Dean. As will the other angels and the other survivors.”  
  
That put him a little at ease though it begged the question, what would happen when he eventually died?  _If_  he could die now. Who would take care of everyone? Who would lead them? “Heh, yeah.”  
  
The next few miles were covered in silence but Castiel did not remove his hand and Dean was sorta glad for it. He’d never thought he’d be able to admit it but it was comforting, grounding. It was nice having someone have his back because they wanted to, not because of some familial obligation.  
  
The Salvage Yard was on the outskirts of Sioux Falls probably because Bobby had needed the room for all of his junkers and stuff. It really did make him come off like a crazy hobbit man though, especially once you got into the neighborhoods of groomed yards and neatly kept houses. It reminded Dean of those tv shows he’d catch as a kid sometimes while dad was out on a hunt, where everyone said howdy neighbor and grew flowers in their flowerbeds. He’d wondered once if that was how his life would have been if his mom hadn’t died. If the Yellow Eyed Demon hadn’t fucked it all up.  
  
He was rounding a curve, lost in thought when Castiel called his name and pointed to the young girl running along the sidewalk, waving her arms and yelling at them. Dean slammed on brakes and the tires squealed as the car came to a stop. He was out in seconds, crossing to where she was standing trying to get her breath back.  
  
“What’s wrong?” Dean asked her. “What are you doing in town? Didn’t everyone leave?”  
  
She couldn’t have been more than sixteen, seventeen at the oldest, her long blonde hair in a messy ponytail. “Yes but—but we couldn’t. My mom is in a wheelchair and no one would help us. We—I saw on the news where people were going crazy and then everyone started leaving town.” She wiped at her wet eyes. “It’s so quiet and nothing has happened but we’re running out of food and I’m getting really scared. My dad is away on a business trip. He—he was in one of the quarantined places.”  
  
Dean licked his lips but didn’t say what he was obviously thinking. “Okay. We’ll get your mom and get the hell outta here. What’s your name?”  
  
She looked so grateful for the help. “Emily.”  
  
He nodded. “Hi Emily. I’m Dean and this is Cas. Take us to your mom.”  
  
Emily jumped to obey, scurrying inside and leaving the door open so that they could follow. “She’s upstairs with my little sister!”  
  
Dean and Castiel made their way behind her, into the quaint little home with its white picket fence and lace curtains. There were pictures lining the walls and inside of what was the master bedroom sat an older brunette version of Emily with a small child on her lap. She looked shaken and a bit afraid, eying them suspiciously.  
  
“Mom this is Dean and Cas.” Emily gestured to them. “They’re gonna take us outta town.”  
  
Her mother pressed her lips together. “You should have let them go. How do we know we can trust them?”  
  
Dean sighed. “Are we murdering you? No. Also you don’t have anything we want so…”  
  
She blinked. “Charming. Sorry I’m just…” Trailing off, she swallowed hard. “Weird things are happening and as you can see I’m not as light on my feet as I used to be. Skiing accident—broke both legs. I’m Meredith.”  
  
Dean nodded. “It’s cool. But trust me, we just wanna help.”  
  
Meredith chanced a smile. “Do you know what’s going on? We’ve been watching the news but I haven’t been able to make heads or tails of it. Some kinda virus has gotten out?”  
  
He rubbed his chin. “Yeah. I’m not gonna lie to you it’s bad. Once you get it you’re pretty much a goner. There is no cure.”  
  
Her lowered lip quivered but she held it together. “So don’t catch the killer disease. Check.”  
  
He smiled; this chick was alright. “We’ll carry you to the car. You might have to sit on some shi—uh—stuff but you’ll be okay. We have a sorta safe house we’re talking people to.”  
  
“Okay. Do I—do I have time to grab anything? And what if my husband comes home? He—I wanna leave him a note.” She stammered. “Emily, quick. Leave your father a note on the fridge in case he comes here looking for us.”  
  
Dean didn’t see the point but he wasn’t about to say that out loud. “Tell him we went to Camp Chitaqua.”  
  
As Emily fumbled with a notebook for a piece of paper, Castiel drifted over to the window and looked out. “Dean. I hear running.”  
  
Dean cursed and stepped up beside him. “Please tell me it’s animals.”  
  
Castiel shook his head slowly. “Open your senses, Dean. The air is filled with sulfur.”  
  
 _Fuck!_  “We gotta get out of here now.” Meredith started to protest but Dean shut her down. “Look we got whatever you need at the camp, but if we don’t get out of here right now you’re all gonna die.”  
  
A snarl sounded from outside and Dean immediately reached for the gun strapped to his thigh, pushing back the curtain to see a lanky man in tattered clothes hobble into the yard. He was red eyed and crazed, foaming at the mouth like he had rabies and covered in bleeding gaping wounds. Dean considered just shooting him and maybe making a break for it to the car but knew the sound would just bring more. As it was he didn’t have to wait because more came anyway, lumbering out of the woods after a frightened deer that sprinted between houses.  
  
 _Least we know what led them here._  
  
“What’s that noise?” Emily whispered, grabbing her mom’s hand. “Th—they’re here, aren’t they? Those things from tv.”  
  
Castiel headed for the doorway. “I will take care of them.”  
  
Blinking, Dean caught his arm, surprised that he could actually pull him back. In the past it would have been like trying to move a mountain. “Are you outta your fucken mind? Those things will tear you a part.”  
  
Castiel frowned. “I am an angel, Dean. They cannot harm me.”  
  
Dean growled. “I know that but we should stick together. Pick ‘em off one by one and then get to the Impala.”  
  
The angel looked away. “There won’t be time. They know we are here and more will come.” A beat. “However I can buy you some time to teleport Meredith and her children to the camp. The Crotes must be destroyed.”  
  
Dean didn’t like anything he was hearing. “Why don’t you take them while I stay here and fight? Pretty sure I can’t be infected.”  
  
Something crashed through a window downstairs causing all of them to jump, the little girl in Meredith’s lap bursting into tears. Castiel gently pried Dean’s hand away. “I may not be powerful enough to take them all but  _you_  are. They  _need_  you, Dean. I will hold the Crotes off until you return.” Nodding, he turned and waltzed out of the door, closing it behind him. There was a deep scraping sound from the hallway which had to be Cas pushing the wardrobe he’d spied earlier in front of the door.  
  
“Goddamn it, Cas!” Dean shouted after him. “You promised we’d fucken stick together!”  
  
Emily was crying. “What’s going on?”  
  
Dean balled his hands into fists but forced himself to remain calm. Cas would be okay. Cas  _would_  be okay and he was right, Meredith and her kids needed him. They were innocents that he had to save. It was time to do the family business one more time.  
  
With the sounds of a brawl beginning downstairs, Dean stalked over to Meredith and put his hand on her shoulder. “Emily, take my hand.” She did so without question. “This might feel weird but bear with me.”  
  
His mind was racing and all he could think about was Castiel fighting, Castiel getting hurt or Castiel dying before he could do anything to help. But he knew that wouldn’t get him moving and the longer he fucked around the more Cas was on his own against those sons a bitches. So Dean exhaled deeply and pictured the camp in his mind. Pictured Sam teaching Sarah to shoot and Chuck fretting over their supplies. Pictured Bobby letting Jodi boss him around.  
  
And then he pictured his cabin---the one he shared with Castiel. The one they’d christened for the first time last night. The one he called home.  
  
Power jerked him forward and he held tight to Meredith and Emily so that he wouldn’t lose them. They all gasped when the scenery changed and they were suddenly in the middle of the camp with people looking on in awe.  
  
“How did you do that!?” Emily exclaimed.  
  
Dean stumbled away from them. “Ask for Sam. I gotta get back to Cas!” Intense blue eyes flashed in his mind and he was gone, landing beside the Impala with a loud thump. “First time not wiping out. Cas!”  
  
The front of Meredith’s house looked like a horror movie had exploded all over it with bloody handprints smeared against what was left of the door where it hung off the hinges. He was just about to call out to Castiel again when a body flew at him from the bushes, grabbing for his face. His gun was in his hand in seconds, the  _bang bang_  echoing throughout the neighborhood as he put two in the Crotes head.  
  
Another rounded on him from behind, tackling him to the ground and knocking his weapon away. It was a woman that probably had hair at one point but now only had bloody patches on her scalp. She wrapped her hands around his neck and squeezed, laughing manically, trying to crush his wind pipe. Dean sputtered for air and slapped his palm against her forehead, feeling heat and watching as she erupted into flames from the inside out. He shoved her off of him and skidded through the doorway, panting hard, eyes widening at the trail of at least twenty trampled bodies leading into the kitchen.  
  
“Cas!” He yelled stepping over them, ignoring the way their bones felt like jelly under his boots. Cas had utterly decimated them.  
  
Dean found the angel slumped against the sink cabinets, pale and bleeding from his nose. There were purplish bruises on his face and he appeared to be unconscious but breathing so that was something. “Cas! Cas!” The hunter shook him, cupping his feverish face with his hands. “C’mon, Cas. Don’t do this to me. I need you, man.”  
  
 _What if fighting drained him and he’s human now? What if he got infected?_  “Castiel. Open your eyes. Castiel!”  
  
“Dean?” Castiel’s lashes fluttered open slowly, and he smiled with red tinged lips. “I—I killed them.”  
  
Dean grinned at him, sagging with relief. He didn’t wanna think what he would do if he lost Castiel for good. “Yeah you did, man. You showed them who was boss. You’re my hero.”  
  
Castiel chuckled wetly. “Are—are Meredith and her daughters safe?”  
  
Dean nodded. “Yeah I dropped them off at the camp and then hauled ass back here. Where does it hurt?”  
  
Castiel groaned softly. “I’ll heal. I can already feel it.”  
  
 _Oh thank God._  “Here.” He kissed Castiel’s forehead, flooding him with healing grace. “Don’t do that again, asshole. Scared me half to death.”  
  
Healed but still a bit weak, the angel lowered his head demurely. “You would have done the same to save those people. If I am to be a hunter then I need to start behaving like one.”  
  
Dean snickered. “Yeah but even hunters start at the bottom of the food chain. We should be getting out of here.” He slipped his arm around Castiel’s waist and hoisted him up, letting him lean heavily against him. “C’mon.” Slowly they made their way back through the hallway and out onto the porch before stopping dead in their tracks.  
  
Standing on Meredith’s lawn and half in the street was a small army of infected, twitching and filthy with crusted gore stuck to their clothes. Some were smiling crazily while others looked itching for a fight, though honestly they were all looking for a fight. Or at least looking to get off on causing a lot more damage. There didn’t seem to be anyone home behind their dead, wide eyes. They were running on rage not even noticing their oozing wounds or broken bones.  
  
 _Did they even feel pain?_  
  
“Pop back to camp?” Dean inquired lowly. “Get the car later…if they haven’t shit all over it.”  
  
“They need to be destroyed.” Castiel said gravely. “A mob this size could wipe out an entire town and critically damage the ecosystem. I—I can—”   
  
Without warning the Crotes rushed at them, falling atop one another in their hurry to get to their victims. Dean let Castiel slide to the ground behind him as his golden wings flared out protectively, blocking the angel from view and casting an enormous shadow across the yard. He thrust his right hand out and exhaled without thought, his entire body jerking forward as a blinding white light blasted from his palm, sweeping through the oncoming crowd like a massive mushroom cloud. His eyes were iridescently radiant and inhuman, the green completely swallowed by the shine.  
  
The sound his energy caused when it made contact with all of the twisting bodies was downright deafening; like a missile striking its target. Windows in houses all along the street shattered inwardly as solid brick walls crumbled like wet dirt. The roof of Meredith’s house whined and broke a part, tumbling down around them. The concrete of the road buckled up and hit a fire hydrant, sending clear water gushing up several feet into the air. And Dean watched the Crotes shriek before being reduced to nothing but smoking piles of black dust.  
  
Panting, he swallowed hard and dropped to one knee when it was over, trying to get his hammering heartbeat under control. His hands were shaking and his mouth was dry, and he could  _see_  like never before. Shooting stars and Saturn’s rings, roping flares diving along the surface of the sun, each individual crater on the moon; it was almost too much for him to handle. But at the same time it was so infinitely beautiful that he wondered how he’d ever gone without it.  
  
Dean felt a hand on his shoulder and he glanced back at Castiel, staring at the white glow that gleamed along the surface of his skin. Talk about infinitely beautiful…“Not bad for a newbie, huh?”  
  
Castiel smiled and kissed him. “It was…” He trailed off. “Well it would definitely do more damage than black out the Eastern seaboard.”  
  
Dean laughed lightly, cringing as a light pole pitched to the ground. It was then he noticed  _all_  of the light and telephone poles were down as well as the few trees. Meredith’s house had been completely demolished…the others hanging on by a stray plank of wood. “Shit. It’s like a tornado blew through here. I don’t—it’s like I just knew what to do.”  
  
“I think you will always know what to do Dean, when someone’s life is in danger. Your sense of preservation and heroism will override everything else, thereby making your access to Michael’s grace that much easier.” Castiel hypothesized. “I know you don’t care but I think Michael would be proud of you and the legacy you are creating.”  
  
The hunter snorted but took the compliment anyway. He stood and folded his wings against his back, holding out a hand to help Castiel up. “I only care about what you think of me, Cas. If you’re not worried then I’m good.”  
  
Castiel let himself be hauled up. “I’m not worried at all. I have nothing but faith in you, Dean.”  
  
 _How can words be comforting and terrifying at the same time?_  
  
Dean wet his lips before saying softly, “C’mon. Let’s get you home.”  
  
~*~  
  
Some people would find Dean looking out for them to be smothering or him questioning their ability to take care of themselves. Castiel could admit that was how he first viewed it but now he knew it had less to do with  _him_  and more about Dean’s fear of losing those he loved. So it was easier to let Dean fuss over him for the next few days, making sure he was one hundred percent healed after his encounter with the Crotes. Giving him wisps of grace as they kissed and grooming his wings to perfection. He realized it was just as much for Dean as it was for him.  
  
Killing all of those infected however had made Castiel feel truly like an angel again. Even though their punches and scratches hurt he’d continued, breaking their bones and stabbing them in the eyes with his sword. Refusing to give up until they were all dead. Yet the best part came after engaging in a skirmish like that; getting to relax on his own and do whatever he wanted to do. Like work on his garden.  
  
Meredith and her daughters were fairing well. They were still confused with many questions but safe. Dean didn’t think her husband was still human but he had Inias on the lookout for him anyway.  
  
According to his brother however two of the army outposts for survivors had been overrun with Crotes when infection broke out. The soldiers panicked and opened fire on everyone whether they were showing symptoms or not. All flights had been grounded until further notice so people were trying to charter boats to get overseas. Meanwhile foreign governments were promising to jail those that made it.   
  
Crowley said he heard word of a small suburb in California with a hot spot which meant it was only a matter of time before California was lost. He thought they were all lost though.  
  
Castiel stood on the porch of his cabin and gazed out as people did the jobs they’d been assigned. He pulled at his t-shirt and shoved his hands into his pockets, spying Sarah and Sam burning trash in a can. Rachel was out checking on the status of the other camps and Chuck looked anxious for her to return. Jodi with a fishing pole in her hand was following Bobby down to where the lake was, bickering about what bait they should use. Everyone seemed…okay. Like they were making the best out of their situation. Honestly he didn’t know if they could ask for more than that.  
  
“What cha doing?” Dean asked as he came up behind him, wrapping his arms around him. He didn’t appear to care if anyone saw.  
  
Castiel smiled and leaned back against him. “Wondering if Bobby and Jodi will catch any fish.”  
  
Dean laughed. “Heh I dunno. If they can stop arguing over worms or crickets long enough to actually bait their hooks, maybe.”  
  
Castiel traced the back of Dean’s hand with his fingers. “Dean, I had a thought earlier. With your powers you could go back in time and change things. Stop the Croatoan virus from ever getting out. Find the source and destroy it before it spreads.”  
  
Dean rested his chin to his shoulder. “I might be able to figure it out but, all of this would be different. You and me I mean. I’d remember but you wouldn’t.”  
  
Castiel nodded. “Yes but I suppose you could make me remember. Or we could simply start over.”  
  
“Well that would be boring.”  
  
Castiel blinked at the sight of Balthazar suddenly beside them. “Hello Balthazar. Back to check in?”  
  
His friend grinned. “Something like that.” His blue eyes drifted to Dean. “Shall I bow?”  
  
Dean snorted. “Only if you think you won’t throw your back out.”  
  
Balthazar chuckled. “I do so love the funny ones.” Pause. “Anyway I have come to ask for asylum from our Heavenly Prince.”  
  
Dean arched a brow, suspicious. “Why would you need asylum? And from who?”  
  
Clearing his throat, Balthazar waved a hand. “It appears that Raphael finally noticed a few of Heaven’s…choice toys were missing.”  
  
Castiel sighed deeply. “Please tell me you did not steal heavenly weapons.”  
  
Balthazar shrugged in a  _what can you do_  sort of way. “I borrowed them when I faked my death just in case one of our intrepid brothers found me and tried to punish me. I was going to give them back but I got caught up in all the sex, drugs and rock and roll. Anyway Raphael knows I took them and he knows that I am alive.” Pause. “However he might be less inclined to smite me out of existence if I am here serving our great General.”  
  
Dean huffed before his expression turned calculating. “What kinda weapons are we talking about here?”  
  
Balthazar considered his question. “The staff of Moses for one; known for conjuring up the seven plagues of Egypt. Basically a whole lot of things that were used to either demand order or kill a bunch of people.”  
  
Castiel could see an idea forming behind Dean’s green eyes. “What is it, Dean? What are you thinking?”  
  
The hunter wet his lips. “Could there be anything that would get rid of the Crotes? Like wipe ‘em all out?”  
  
Balthazar rubbed his chin. “Perhaps. Some haven’t been used since the dawn of time so I can’t be sure.” He grinned cheekily. “You keep Raphael from splattering me across the universe and they are yours.”  
  
Dean grunted but agreed. “Fine. If he shows up I’ll convince him not to kill you.” A beat. “You take off without helping and I’ll find you and kill you myself.”  
  
Balthazar smirked. “Yes sir. I suppose I’ll go introduce myself then to the masses. She looks interesting…” He strolled off the porch and towards the woman called Risa, a former physical trainer Rachel had rescued. Dean had been jumpy around her at first before admitting he’d seen her in his future trip.  
  
Castiel turned to face him. “I will help you with the weapons. And Raphael.”  
  
Dean carded his fingers through the angel’s hair. “I know. You can be my second in command or whatever. Jesus, Cas…” He smiled slowly. “This could be an actual break. I don’t wanna get my hopes up but, who knows? With my mojo and these weapons I might be able to actually stop those bastards from turning anymore people.”  
  
“It is a plan worth looking into.” Castiel mused. “If anyone can make it work you can.”  
  
“Yeah yeah.” Dean kissed him softly. “C’mon. We gotta tell Sam what’s up. Time to save the world again, Cas.”  
  
“And if we succeed? Then what?” Castiel inquired innocently, letting himself be pulled along.  
  
Dean glanced at him over his shoulder, winking. “Celebration sex of course. Duh.”  
  
Castiel laughed, squeezing his fingers. “Then I hope we win.”  
  
Dean made a noise in his throat. “Even if we don’t we’ll still have some type of sex.  _Sex_  is a part of us now, Cas. No worries.” Stopping, he ducked his head but met Castiel’s gaze. “I could never go back to how we were. You’re not just Cas anymore. You’re… _Cas_. You’re a part of me and…shit…I  _need_  you with me.”  
  
Castiel went with the urge to hug him, inhaling the smell of grease and leather, knowing exactly what that look meant. He didn’t know what was going to happen or if Balthazar’s weapons would help in their new war against the Crotes, but as long as Dean was willing to fight then he would fight with him. There was no other place he wanted to be than by Dean’s side. Always.   
  
The End

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kudos and comments are love! If you enjoyed the fic please take a minute to let me know. I'd really appreciate it! <3


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